Through the Abyss
by Anne Nonamous
Summary: Following Junior Prom, where do Brittany and Santana take their relationship?
1. Chapter 1

Obligatory disclaimer: I do not own Glee, I do not own these characters, and while they are fun to borrow, I don't make anything of monetary value from their use.

"This prom sucks."

It really had sucked, mostly. Karofsky had won Prom King, and there was Santana, a bridesmaid again, and still no Brittany. At Brittany's urging, though, she'd gone back into the gym and sang her heart out with Mercedes because maybe Britt was right - it really was harder for Kurt. It had felt good, to sing for Kurt's brief turn around the floor as Prom Queen. Santana wasn't into doing things just to help other people feel good, but she made an exception for Kurt after the shitty thing their classmates had done to him. It helped ease the ache in her own heart, just a little bit.

The prom started winding down not too long after the Queen's dance, and once Santana saw Brittany dancing with Artie to some disco shit, well, she'd had enough heartache to shoehorn into one night. She'd watched Dave stalk off the dance floor before the dance with Kurt, so she went looking for him. There were after-parties to attend, and she'd planned to go to a couple of them with him, just to keep spinning the fiction. Plus he had the bottle of cheap vodka she'd helped pay for.

She found him in the parking lot, leaning against his car, contemplating the crown he was slowly twirling in his large hands.

"Hey."

He looked up. Hit tie was loosened, the button on his collar undone, and she saw the conflict etched into his face. "Hey."

"Congrats," she said, gesturing to the crown.

He swallowed. "Thanks. Sorry about ditching you in there. I just ... couldn't." His voice nearly broke and Santana saw the anguish creasing his brow before he looked away.

"I know. I get it. I mean, really, I get it." She stepped closer, lowered her voice and confessed. "I'm in love with my best friend, and even though she loves me back, I can't come out at this school. I can't. I won't." The last, spoken only in a broken whisper, mostly to herself. She closed her eyes, ruthlessly shoved away the emotions, again. "There's no way I'm going through anything like what those tools did to Kurt tonight, and I'm not joining the freaking golf team. And when I find out who started the idea of electing him Prom Queen and voted for him as a joke," with a head-bob, "I'm gon'crack a bottle over all they heads." Just voicing the threat made her feel better, like her own self. She squared her shoulders, looked up at Dave, cocked her head to the side a bit. "If I weren't such a freaking hypocrite I would clock you for what you pulled on Kurt. It was pretty shitty." Dave looked down at his shoes and even in the low light of the parking lot, Santana could see the flush creeping up his neck. Making him feel worse wouldn't help Kurt, but at least she was on the record. "So." He looked up at her and tried not to wince. She smiled, softening her features. "Things are dying down in there. It's prom night and apparently neither one of us is getting laid, despite the fact that one of us is prom royalty and one of us is smokin' hot." She smirked, then, rested a hand on one satin-clad hip. "Wanna hit an after-party?"

Dave looked at her and mulled it over. "OK, but just one. Puckerman's? He always finds the best booze and weed." A small smile crossed his lips and he tentatively held out his hand. "You're not so bad, Lopez."

She accepted his hand. It was a little rough and almost twice the size of hers, felt odd. She head the sounds of other prom-goers trailing out of the gym and decided she was ready to go. She rolled her eyes at him, and muttered, "Don't get used to it."

# # #

Puck's party was in full swing by the time they arrived, bathing them in the thump of bass from the music tumbling out into the street. There weren't drunk kids lolling on the front lawn yet, but if past parties were prologue, there would be before daylight broke. Knowing Puck, there would probably be abandoned articles of clothing in the trees and landscaping too, but that was hours away yet, Santana thought as she and Dave walked up the driveway toward the front door. She tugged on his hand as the approached the door, to get him to stop. He looked at her, frowning a little in confusion.

"Game face, Dave." She turned her body to face him, gently placed his hands on her hips, closed her eyes, placed her hands flat on his chest, and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him. She felt nothing, like kissing the back of her own hand at 12 as practice.

The door opened, and Puck and a jock posse half-fell out the front door onto the porch. "God, Lopez, can't wait to get him home and take care of that?" The other jocks jeered a bit.

Santana turned, glad both for the interruption and the witnesses, and let her bitchy off the chain. "Shut it, Puckerman. Just because Zizes won't give it up to you doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer in celibacy." More jeers and catcalls, ribbing Puck. "She give you your _huevos_ back yet?"

Puck belched for good measure, reached the pair and held up a fist to bump with Karofsky. "Leave the family jewels alone. You had no problem finding them." Karofsky returned Puck's fist-bump and a grin appeared on his face as he recognized some of his hockey teammates. Puck offered the bottle of Patrón he was clutching in one hand, which Dave grabbed. He took a long, greedy swallow, leaned down to kiss Santana full on the mouth. "I'm going inside to find some party favors. See you in a few minutes?" Santana nodded, but took the bottle of tequila from him. Karofsky turned toward the house and disappeared inside, jostling with the jocks.

"I see you've got that whipped," said Puck.

"It's what I do." Santana looked at Puck, whose jacket was gone, with his shirt untucked and half-unbuttoned. She took her own long swig of tequila, enjoyed the sensation of the burn all the way down her esophagus and into her belly. Let the numbing begin. "So, Puck, did you at least save me a beer?"

"Since when do you drink beer?"

"Since I can gain a quarter-pound without worrying about it showing in this dress or that stupid Cheerios uniform. Plus I skipped dinner."

"Hey, I LIKED that uniform. Short skirts are da bomb. I could see your ovaries if you bent over, remember?"

Santana punched him in the arm. "Creeper. Totally don't miss freezing my ass off in the winter, but there's no doubt it was a great look for me." She smirked.

"Where's Brittany?"

Santana was sure she stopped the frown that ghosted over her forehead before Puck had a chance to see it, and she was acutely aware of the weight of the silver bracelet around her wrist. "How should I know? The last I saw, she was cutting a rug to some ancient disco revival crap with Wheels. I'm still not sure how a kid in a freaking wheelchair," she held up her fingers to make air quotes, "dances." Again, a surge of equal parts jelousy and anger, and a struggle to master them. She took another pull off the bottle in her hand and then Puck claimed it roughly.

"Damn, Santana, don't be so freaking touchy. You know, there were a bunch of people running for for Prom Queen and you didn't win. So what? Get over it." He started walking back toward the house. She seized on that as the real reason for her pique.

"Screw you! I really wanted to win, and you know, my running mate did actually win! You need to get laid!" The last part she shouted to Puck's back as he, too, disappeared into the house. She was outside alone for a moment, but heard footsteps. Quinn was coming up the walk, with Rachel, and no Finn or Jesse in sight. Santana cocked an eyebrow. This was ... unusual.

"Santana," Quinn said. Rachel, a quiet "Hey."

"Quinn...Berry. There's liquor in the house and probably some J. You in?"

Rachel and Quinn looked at each other, and then at Santana. Quinn sniffed the air delicately. "You have a head start, but after the night I've had, I'm ready for a drink. What a horrible prom."

Rachel huffed out a breath. "You know, smoking can damage your vocal cords and impair lung function. I don't want anything to smoke, but a wine cooler could be refreshing." Santana flashed back to Rachel's tremulous "Let's party!" declaration at - what had Mercedes called it ? The Rachel Berry Train Wreck Extravanganza. She rolled her eyes and stalked toward the house. Surely there was something heavy inside to punch or kick, or at least something to make image of Brittany slow dancing with that nameless, faceless girl disintegrate.

# # #

Less than an hour later, Santana had lost track of how many shots she'd poured down her throat and she kept forgetting where she set her beer down. She had tracked down Karofsky in the basement and pulled him away from the throng of jocks who were passing a joint around and chasing with a fifth of cheap bourbon. Someone had cleared space by moving the sofas and chairs to line the walls, so there was a makeshift dance floor a few steps away. "Dance with me," she commanded, as she grabbed his hand. Karofsky, feeling no pain, willingly half-stumbled behind her. All Santana wanted at that precise moment was to lose herself a little further. The music was pulsing, and she was compelled to move. Karofsky wasn't much of a dancer, but Santana's hips kept perfect time and masked the worst of his rhythmic shortcomings. She felt the buzz surging through her, nicking her nerve endings deliciously, and she welcomed the euphoric oblivion.

The music shifted, then, to something slow with a beat just born for grinding. Karofsky slowly slid a hand to the small of Santana's back and pulled her close to him. She automatically looped her hands around the back of his neck and leaned into him. She frowned a little but stayed where she was. She shuffled around with him, for the most part successfully avoiding his lumbering feet. This was OK in a "dancing with your cousin at your sister's wedding" kind of way, but who was she kidding? Anyone who wasn't Brittany would never be right, would never be what she needed. The other couples around them were making out on the dance floor or feeling each other up, and Santana thought she saw Quinn nestled up to Puck on her left, and most assuredly that was Mercedes macking on Sam over by the wall. She felt Karofsky's hands smooth down to rest lightly on her backside, possessively. The song melded into another slow groove, and she quickly broke away from Karofsky with brief eye contact and a slight smile. He smiled back, and reached out to try to claim her for another dance. She felt the skin on the back of her neck skin prickle, and turned around.

Brittany was sitting on one of the sofas with Rachel, who was talking animatedly about something in a low voice. Santana felt the air pressure in the room shift as she met Brittany's sad eyes, and her stomach lurched. She turned, then, and ran for the bathroom. She only had to elbow one unfortunate sophomore out of the way, but she made it in time. Her stomach gave up much of the alcohol she had consumed, and she flushed the toilet as she stood up and looked in the mirror. It could have been worse: she was pale, trembling, a little sweaty, and her makeup needed some touching up. She turned on the cold water tap and rinsed her mouth. The sadness on Brittany's face was overwhelming, and she felt tears threatening. God, she wanted to lash out at someone, or something, anything to make this mess go away. Why'd the good things about liquor have to come with a side of weepy and hysterical? A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, thoughts that were tumbling way too fast to keep track of them.

"Santana?" She recognized that annoying voice.

"Beat it, dwarf." She opened to door to see Rachel preparing to knock again.

"We-we just wanted to be sure that you were OK."

"Everything's fucking peachy, Berry." She shouldered past Rachel, probably a little more roughly than necessary, and made for the front door and some fresh air. It had to help.

# # #

Santana gingerly sat down at the end of the driveway, slipped her heels off, and stretched out her legs with a toe flex for good measure. The air outside was a little cooler, a little cleaner, and she leaned her head back to look up into the night sky. God, this town was fucked up and she couldn't wait until she could get out. Lesbian colony, TriBeCa, or the far side of the moon ... it didn't much matter because she couldn't live much longer as an outcast in nowheresville, Ohio. She sighed.

"San?" Only one person dared call her that. She closed her eyes.

"Yeah, Britt?"

Brittany settled down on the pavement about a foot away from Santana, set her purse down beside her. "It's hot in there. And it smells like pot."

Santana snickered. "Can't argue with that." She turned her head to look at Brittany. It hurt and felt good all at the same time, to see the concern on her face. Things had been awkward between them since Brittany had given Santana the "Lebanese" t-shirt, and had remained so even after Brittany had broken up with Artie.

"Are you OK? Rachel thought you were getting sick."

Santana looked away. "It's nothing, B, just had a little too much to drink, too fast." Her breath hitched involuntarily. "I came outside to get some fresh air." She pulled her knees to her chest and clasped her arms around them, and felt so alone. She heard her bracelet make the smallest tinkling sound as the links shifted, settled.

"Oh. I thought maybe you got sick because you're trying to be Karofsky's girlfriend." A pause. "San, I don't think you're fooling anyone."

Santana sighed. She was so not ready to have this conversation, not tonight. Her stomach roiled rebelliously. "I don't give a damn who I'm fooling or not. At least it looks good and people won't treat me like - like the way they treated Kurt tonight!" A single tear slipped down her cheek, which made Santana even angrier. "Shit," she said, and muttered, "not again." Only Brittany wrought this much emotion from her. She took a steadying breath and dashed the tear away angrily. Weakness, tears and hysteria were not part of the game plan, at least not for a losing campaign on all fronts on prom night.

"I think I'm ready to call it a night." She clambered to her feet, a little unsteady, and carefully slipped her shoes back on. When she looked up, Brittany was directly in front of her, for once at eye level because of the ridiculously high heels Santana had paired with the prom dress. "Do you need a ride?" Brittany was standing close enough that Santana could feel her body heat in the evening cool, her calm gaze direct.

Shit, damn. Eye contact at close range was so...intimate. Santana routinely spurned the very concept with most people, but Brittany definitely was not most people. Santana took a half-step back, out of the streetlight glaring directly overhead, telling herself it was so that she could see Brittany better.

"Yeah. Do you mind? Dave's too stoned to drive and I don't want to call my mom or dad." Karofsky had also gotten a little too handsy for her taste during that last dance when he palmed her ass, which her mind grasped as another spot-on call about his being a late bloomer who would have to get drunk before he could have relations with his wife. Having awesome gaydar was a burden as much as a blessing, but she could no more turn off the gay than she could turn off being a judgmental bitch, right?

"Let me text Rachel and Quinn to tell them we're leaving." Brittany was already pulling her phone out of her purse. Santana did too, to text Karofsky that she was leaving and she'd see him Monday. Done.

# # #

Brittany pulled a stick of gum from the pack she kept on the dashboard of her car. She offered a piece to Santana, who gratefully accepted. Brittany started the car and pulled away from the curb. "Thanks, B." Brittany gave her a small smile. "Sure." Santana turned on the radio, and a dance-floor anthem immediately swept through the car. Santana watched Brittany's fingers drum in time to the beat on the steering wheel and she relaxed into the passenger seat for the short ride home.

# # #

Jacob Ben Israel was crouched down near the bushes, working Puck's for The Muckraker. He'd followed Santana outside after watching most of the goings-on in the basement. He was writing furiously in a small notebook every couple of minutes and pausing periodically to speak into a small digital recorder. "Which prom queen candidate was seen slow-dancing with Prom royalty at a certain after-party before puking and leaving without her date? The same one who's rearranging her closet." He also jotted some notes about Quinn's draping herself on Puck, and he wondered what Lauren Zizes would have to say about Caboosey mackin' on her man. There were other after-parties to attend, though, and he had other news stories to sniff out. He put his notebook and recorder into his backpack, and wondered briefly if he could leverage any of his rumor-mill information to net Rachel Berry's cell phone number. He decided to let the thought simmer, and set off for the next party.

# # #

Brittany pulled into the Lopez driveway and shifted into Park. Ten seconds passed. She shut off the radio and turned in her seat to look at Santana. "San?"

Santana unbuckled the seat belt and asked, "Do you want to come in?" She looked across the seat at Brittany after the question was out, her face carefully impassive.

"Sure." Brittany turned off the headlights and switched off the ignition.

The two exited the car and Santana reached out her pinky to link with Brittany's. "Kitchen door, around the back," Santana said quietly, pulling a little to guide Brittany. "Less noise," she explained. "Don't want to wake the 'rents." It seemed like it'd been forever since she last touched Brittany.

When they reached the door, Santana reluctantly dropped Brittany's hand to paw through her small clutch. "Key, key," she muttered Her mom had left the porch light on, which was a sure sign her parents were in bed for the night. God knew old people could sleep through anything so Santana was grateful that she wouldn't have to see them until tomorrow.

Where was the freaking key?

Brittany reached out and took Santana's clutch with a whispered, "Let me help, San." Their fingers brushed in the exchange and it was all Santana could do not to snatch her hand away. God, it felt like getting burned. She should have been used to it by now, but for some reason she was hyper-aware tonight of the physical reality of Brittany's presence on the small concrete pad outside her kitchen door. Brittany triumphantly pulled the key out, on a tiny Hello Kitty key ring.

"Aww, San, you still have this?" She inspected the cheery cartoon face under the porch light and then dropped the key in Santana's open palm. "I gave it to you like ten years ago." Brittany smiled.

"Of course I kept it, Britt," she said, a little more sharply than she intended, and she turned toward the door. The key slid home and she turned it in the lock. It took a little effort, but the lock gave way with some persistence and jiggling. Santana didn't use this door very often.

Santana pushed the door open and ushered Brittany inside first. She locked the door behind her and turned off the porch light. The kitchen was dark, and Santana instinctively reached out for Brittany's hand. She found Brittany's waist instead, and her fingers brushed over the fabric of Brittany's dress. She didn't think next, only reacted, as she splayed her fingers at the base of Brittany's spine and pulled her close. Her body registered that being pressed together, from breast to belly to thigh, even through clothing, was so much better with Brittany than it ever had been with anyone else. She caught the fragrance of Brittany's shampoo, and felt the familiar need beginning to curl, deep in her belly. Her eyes fluttered closed and she allowed the sensations free reign.

"San?"

Warm, cinnamon-scented breath on her cheek.

"We're still in the kitchen." Brittany's hands moved up to rest on Santana's hips, thumbs lightly massaging through the red satin of her dress, which shot little sparks through Santana's whole nervous system.

Santana, eyes closed in the maelstrom, allowed herself the luxury of resting her forehead against Brittany's, just for the span of a few heartbeats. "I know, B."

"We should go upstairs. We should talk."

God knew the sensations were overwhelming, but something wasn't right. Santana's brain dully recognized the wisdom even as her body ardently clamored for more contact. She exhaled, opened her eyes. She didn't shy away from Brittany's gaze this time, but merely said, "OK." So much for being a badass. She was willing to give up some badassery, though, if she got the girl in the end. Not satisfied but less willing to stay put, Santana ran her left hand down Brittany's right forearm and seamlessly clasped their pinkies together. She took a step back and turned toward the staircase. She led Brittany by heart around the obstacles she knew were there, knowing that Brittany could have led them just as easily since she spent so much time in the house.

# # #

Brittany followed Santana into her bedroom. She wasn't sure yet what she was going to say but she knew in her heart that for once she didn't want just a roll in the hay, even an exceptional one with Santana, followed by a few hours of sleep. She frowned lightly.

Santana hadn't turned on any lights. Brittany felt her take her hand and pull her closer, into an embrace. Brittany resisted, lightly. Santana paused. "Britt?"

"San..." Brittany brought up a hand to rest on Santana's sternum, a barrier. "Can we turn on a light? I want to talk."

Santana dropped her arms and turned away. She kicked off her shoes, immediately soothing an ache in her feet, before she switched on the bedside lamp. She perched on the side of the bed and looked up at Brittany expectantly, and trying to ignore the jitterbugging going on in her chest. "So ... talk."

Brittany rolled Santana's desk chair over and settled into gracefully, artfully arranging the fluffy skirt on her prom dress while she weighed her thoughts. She looked up.

"San, have you thought any more about telling people about us?"

Santana's heart squeezed for an instant. Brittany would never be the most eloquent person, and subtlety was not her strong suit. Santana fought off the urge to deflect the inquiry with a cutting remark, knowing that Brittany deserved an honest answer, needed one.

"B, I ... " Santana looked down, and then back at Brittany. "I love you, Brittany. I can't imagine being without you. I can't stand being apart and it is so hard to see you dating other people."

"San, I told you that I would proudly be yours if Artie and I ever were to break up. We did, and I thought you would be happy. Don't you want to date me?" Brittany's voice got a little smaller, a little softer. "Because I really want to date you."

Santana leaned forward and very nearly reached out. "Britt, I want you more than anything. I'm just ... afraid." She looked down again.

"Afraid of what? Being your entire awesome self or only being a part? I don't get it." Brittany frowned, which emphasized her point.

"I know, B. This is just really hard for me. We talked about this already, that day by the lockers."

"Why? You love me. I know you do. You said so, and I really liked the song you sang to me in the choir room."

"Britt - " Santana stood, and started to pace. Her forehead was scrunched up in thought. "Some seriously bad shit could happen to both of us if we came out and started dating, like publicly."

Santana's groove kept her from seeing Brittany's shoulders slump. "You're ashamed."

Santana heard the sea change in Brittany's tone, stopped, and returned to kneel front of Brittany, forcing her chin up. "Never, B. I'm so happy you've chosen me, even after all of the horrible things I do and say."

Brittany held Santana's gaze. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything. Why are you afraid of what some high school kids will say about you, or say about us?"

Santana sat and thought about Brittany's statement for a time, and didn't even have the knee-jerk reaction to say that Santana Lopez wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. Brittany waited for a moment, which stretched to two, and then she gave up. She pulled her chin away and stood up. "I-I gotta go, San. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow." Brittany started toward the bedroom door, more confused than ever, and hurt.

"Britt, don't go. At least not yet." Santana had righted herself and stood up straight. She reached out a hand toward Brittany, who looked at it and slowly looked up at the hopeful expression on Santana's face.

"San," she intoned, her voice belying some of her exhaustion from the day, and something deeper. "I'm tired and I want to go home. I want to date you and be your girlfriend, but only if we can go public," she said, slinging her newfound journalism jargon. "I don't want to just hook up anymore, or make out at parties for other people to watch us. It hurts when we do that but you still deny to other people that we're together. No matter what you think, you won't convince me that it's better without feelings. I'm in love with you, Santana, and it doesn't matter to me that we're both girls." One tear slipped out of the corner of one of Brittany's eyes, and she let it fall. "I'm in love with you, and I love us both too much to let you go on hiding this, hiding us."

Santana let her hand drop. That was a mouthful for her sweet Brittany to speak at one time, and Santana was a little taken aback. She looked at Brittany, really looked at her. Even in the soft light in the middle of the night, Santana could see her eyes shining with tears, and with conviction of the words she'd just spoken. Santana absolutely agreed that feelings made all the difference in the world, but her fear of losing Brittany rose up, took control and spoke the next words for her. "So that's it? You'll be with me, but only if I come out? That's not fair, Brittany," she snapped.

Brittany shook her head sadly. "San, it IS fair. I want to hold your hand in the hallway at school and sneak kisses between classes at your locker and go to the movies with you and go to the prom with you and tell everyone we know that you're mine and I'm yours. Why is that a bad thing?"

Santana's brain scrambled to keep up with such a long list under the remaining haze of booze. "It's not a bad thing, Britt." She pinched the bridge of her nose and felt a honey of a headache gathering steam. She dropped her hand from her nose and met Brittany's eyes. "But we know that the kids there do not accept people who are different." Santana's conscience twinged as she remembered some of the awful things she had done to other kids at school in the name of burnishing her own social status. Coming out would torpedo everything she'd worked so hard to build. "Britt, it's late. Stay. We'll just sleep, I promise." She took a step forward. "Please?" Her voice broke on the last word and had it been anyone else, she'd have loathed the neediness in her own voice. She held her hand out again.

Brittany considered for a long moment, and Santana thought she'd just turn and run out of the room. Brittany reached for Santana's hand, because her heart told her to. "OK, to sleep. We aren't done talking about this, San. I mean it."

"I know," Santana blew out a sigh of relief that Brittany would stay. Santana took one more step forward and she was in Brittany's arms again. She rested her head on Brittany's chest and listened to her heart beating. She breathed in Brittany's scent, a mix of shampoo, body wash, perfume, and light sweat. She knew at that precise moment that she'd have to find a way to make peace with coming out because there was no way she could give this up and survive. Tomorrow, she thought, nuzzling in a little closer. She'd worry about it tomorrow.

# # #

Brittany tugged the borrowed t-shirt down toward her hips and inspected her reflection in the mirror. She knew she looked tired, but it had been a long day. She was glad she and San had talked tonight instead of going right to bed to have sex. Brittany loved San's kisses and enjoyed their physical relationship, but she didn't want to have just sex in the dark anymore. She smiled at her reflection and turned off the light before leaving the en-suite bathroom. Santana was already in her bed, trying to beat a pillow into the weird shape she liked.

"San, I think you're hurting the pillow."

Santana smirked. "Not possible, Britt, but it's sweet of you to defend the pillow." She sat up and one strap of the nightgown she privately thought of as her "Come and get me" sleepwear slipped down her shoulder. She caught Brittany's wide-eyed look and said, "What? It was the last one clean." It was the truth.

Brittany slipped into bed beside Santana. The cool sheets felt good against the bare skin of her legs and her body reminded her how exhausted she was.

Santana, face scrubbed clean of makeup, looked up at Brittany and felt the electricity when their eyes locked. "I'm really glad you stayed, B," she said softly.

Brittany smiled. "Me too, San." She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Santana's lips.

Santana, mindful of her promise even though the brief kiss made her crave so much more, smiled and settled in to their preferred spoon sleeping position. Brittany snuggled in behind Santana, pulled up the covers, and draped her arm over Santana's hip. Santana laced her fingers through Brittany's.

"Mmmm," Santana purred, and the sound skittered down Brittany's spine, in an all-too-good kind of way. "B, sometimes I wonder how I ever managed to get a good night's sleep without you."

Brittany smiled into Santana's hair and caught herself before she brushed a kiss over the nape of Santana's neck. She settled for a softly uttered, "Good night, San."

"'Night, Britt."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this.

x X x X A/N. I'm new to writing fan fiction (though not new to reading it). It's going to be a long summer without any fresh canon Brittana. Let's see what happens. Errors are all mine.

Chapter 2

Brittany woke only once during the night, to Santana's light snores, and she smiled lightly at the way their sleeping bodies had changed positions. Santana was curled up half on-top of her, with her head resting on Brittany's shoulder and her left hand curled carelessly around Brittany's breast through the t-shirt. Brittany looked at Santana's sleeping face in the near-dark, arching her neck to get a better view. Even in the dull glow from the streetlights outside the Lopez home, Santana's face was so relaxed in sleep that it seemed as if her cares melted away when the Sandman came. Brittany couldn't resist smoothing a lock of Santana's hair off her cheek. Santana mewled a bit and shifted her lower body so that her thigh rested lightly between Brittany's, though she didn't fully stir. Brittany's body registered the more intimate contact, but she quelled the desire to wake Santana. Instead, she contemplated Santana as she slept, and silently willed Santana some of her own courage. She would need it in the coming weeks and months if they were going to be together. After a few minutes, Brittany slept again, with one arm wrapped loosely around Santana's back, drawing in her scent and feeling at peace.

x X x X

Santana woke late, and blinked furiously against the bright sunlight pouring into her bedroom. Good lord, whose idea was it to give her the bedroom that got the most light first thing in the morning? She groaned, stretched, and rolled over. Remembered that she hadn't gone to sleep alone last night.

"Britt?"

No answer.

Santana sat up, looked around, and saw that she was indeed alone this morning. She frowned, but knew she'd be talking to Brittany sometime today anyway. She stretched again, threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. When she stood up, she saw a sheet of her own note paper on her nightstand, under the little black hat with the red trim that Brittany had worn in her hair last night. The note was carefully folded in half with her name on the front in Brittany's flowing handwriting. She picked it up, unfolded the paper.

San,

I had to go early to change Lord Tubbington's NickTeen patch. He's out of the gum and I don't want him to sneak anymore cigarettes. Call me later?

Love, B

One corner of Santana's mouth tilted up in a half smile. She set the note back down, contemplated briefly how Brittany could light up the dark places in her soul just by being herself. She yawned, stretched again, and headed to the bathroom. Her steps slowed when she realized the immobilizing coming out panic hadn't slammed sideways into her like it usually did. She wasn't ready to shout anything from a rooftop, but maybe this was progress. The other corner of her mouth tilted up.

x X x X

Quinn entered the choir room a little late on Monday sporting oversized dark sunglasses. Finn leapt to his feet and all but ran over to her. "Where've you been? I've been calling and texting you since Saturday night."

Quinn held up a hand, pulled back a bit and said, "Not now, Finn." He looked incredulous.

"Not NOW? What the hell, Quinn? I heard what went down at Puckerman's. I'm not stupid." Puck surreptitiously scooted his chair back a foot or so. Finn threw punches when he was angry, and even if they weren't very hard, they could still cause some damage if he landed one on the face. After what Lauren had done to him, Puck had no interest in any additional physical punishment. She wasn't on the wrestling team for nothing and he wasn't sure his shoulder would ever be the same.

Artie chimed in. "Aww, Lucy got some 'splainin' to do." Tina stifled a snicker and Mike shushed her.

Lauren sat there looking on, supremely self-satisfied as she studied her nails. She looked up at Quinn, then Finn. "Did you ice that down, Fabray?"

Finn snatched the glasses off Quinn's face, and only then did Finn and the rest of Glee see the shiner. Quinn snatched the glasses right back and pushed past Finn.

"We're done!" Quinn stopped at Finn's shout and turned around.

"You want to do this here, in front of all of these people?" She sniffed as haughtily as she could manage with a black eye. "Fine. Is this before, or after, we discuss your unresolved feelings for Rachel and the fact that you got kicked out of your own prom for fighting with another guy over a girl who. Wasn't. Even. Your. Date?"

Finn's face contorted in rage and he sputtered.

Quinn said, "I thought so." She slid the glasses back on her nose gingerly. "We're done now." She walked confidently to a vacant seat beside Kurt and sat down with quiet dignity.

Finn stormed out of the room, but not before he tossed a couple of chairs toward the side of the room. Rachel shrank into her seat a bit, unsure of whether she should go after him or stay put. She waited a little too long, though, and indecision became inaction. Santana stared between Lauren and Quinn, but didn't notice Rachel's glance toward Quinn. Brittany did.

Mr. Schue walked into the choir room before the echo of Finn's door slam died. "So, guys, how was ..." He took in the body language, the pair of chairs askew and stopped. "...prom?"

x X x X

# # #

"When I find that Jewfro kid I'ma show him how we do it in Lima Heights Adjacent!" Santana all but snarled the words, followed by an ominous "cosas malas" under her breath. Brittany, who was holding the Monday issue of The Muckraker and skimming the blind items column, didn't flinch.

"San, you can't," she said calmly, leaning a shoulder against her locker without looking up from the paper.

"Why not?" Santana dropped her math book into her locker and threw a defiant hand onto her hip.

"The Bullywhips will come after you. Would you have to walk yourself to Principal Figgins' office? I mean, you're totally hot in the red beret and jacket, but..." Brittany's words trailed off as she turned the page and read the blurb about the Zizes Incident at Puck's party, submitted by an anonymous source.

Santana opened her mouth, and then shut it again. Damn it all if Brittany wasn't right. She huffed and rolled her eyes. "I can stuff him in a locker when nobody's looking and he won't have any proof that it was me."

"Sa-an," Brittany said in admonishment, with a look up.

"Fine." Santana relented. "But if he messes with me again or says one more thing about me-er, us, or whatever, I'm gonna beat his ass so hard his mama will have a permanent limp and then I'ma grind up what's left of him to be used as ink for that rag," she fumed, gesturing at the paper.

Brittany looked up, over Santana's shoulder, and Santana saw her expression change subtly, to something closed and chilly. "I've gotta go. See you in Spanish." Brittany turned around and melted away into the throng of students in the hallway. Santana frowned and felt a large, masculine hand lightly grasp her forearm. Oh, yeah, she thought, I almost forgot. Her stomach knotted and she fought off a shiver.

"Dave," she said as she turned and mustered her Cheerios smile. He smiled back at her, laced their fingers together, and leaned down to kiss her. She felt the slight scrape of his unshaven face as his mouth settled briefly on hers. It wasn't unpleasant, but good God, did it have to suck so badly compared to Brittany's kiss?

"We still on for lunchtime?" The Bullywhips routinely patrolled then, and both of them had agreed to take on some new group members so they could take fewer shifts in the last weeks of school and get a head start training some new kids for next year.

"You know it," she said. "Meet me here?" Another forced smile.

"Sure." The last warning bell rang, and Santana jumped. "I've gotta get to class. See you at lunchtime." She extricated her hand as pleasantly as she could and briskly walked the opposite direction. She didn't notice that Jacob Ben Israel had observed the entire exchange, and noted how awkward it was. He smirked, thinking there was more to learn about Santana Lopez.

x X x X

Quinn studied herself in the restroom mirror. She had taken off the sunglasses and was turning her face to the left and right, trying to see if the swelling had gone down any since this morning. God, how stupid was it that she'd sought out Puck, of all people? And she had been too shocked to throw a punch back at Lauren after she'd been pulled off Puck. She sighed and shook her head a little bit, seeing maybe the tiniest bit of humor in it. Puck had probably gotten worse. Zizes had him in a brutal half-Nelson when Quinn had taken her tattered ego and throbbing face upstairs and outside.

The restroom door opened and Quinn hastily put the glasses back on.

"Hey." Rachel stopped short, but her voice was soft. "I didn't realize you were in here." She looked down at her hands, not sure what else to say. "So, what'd your mom say about ..."

"She was disappointed, but I may not have been entirely forthcoming about how it happened." Quinn pursed her lips. "She was pretty surprised that my date didn't walk me to the front door." Quinn took the glasses off again. They hurt a little bit when they sat on her nose.

"Oh." Rachel noticed that Quinn didn't use Finn's name.

Quinn met Rachel's eyes in the mirror.

"Thanks for driving me home on Saturday night, Rachel."

Rachel smiled. "No problem. I'm glad you had someone there." Rachel took a small step toward Quinn. "I know we've had our differences, Quinn, but -"

Quinn held up her hand to stop the forthcoming monologue before Rachel picked up a full head of steam. "Rachel, let's just leave it at this for right now. I have about as much as I want to handle." She smiled softly to blunt the impact of her sharp words, and turned to leave the restroom. She laid a hand on Rachel's arm for a heartbeat and looked at her briefly before putting the sunglasses back on and stepping around her to push the door open.

Rachel met her own puzzled gaze in the mirror. How odd. Not that Quinn had stopped her, but that time had stopped altogether when Quinn touched her arm and looked her in the eye. She rubbed her arm where Quinn's hand had rested and marveled at the slight tingle. Probably nothing. She fluffed her hair up, put on her best Broadway smile and left the restroom too.

x X x X

The dust settled after the prom fallout with spring exams approaching, then Coach Sylvester's sister died, and suddenly there was New York City. Santana tried to stay aloof but once the glee club was loose in Times Square, she gave up and let the magic thunder through her full-bore. THIS was what it was like to be in the Big City, away from the small minds and small people in Lima. Her heart soared with the breadth of everything she saw, heard, and felt, and she wanted desperately to share it all with Brittany, She had come so close to tangling their fingers together when the glee club was working its way though Central Park, but she'd chickened out at the last second. Brittany had looked over at her, humor wreathing her eyes as if she knew exactly what was going on, and Santana had blushed. (She explained it away later. "What? We were both holding all those balloons and if I'd have gotten any closer we probably both would both still be tangled in a hundred yards of ribbon when they called us to the stage for Nationals." Not that being tangled in a hundred yards of ribbon with Brittany would have been a hardship, but that wasn't the point.)

They were able to steal a moment, a single moment. While Rachel and Kurt were prowling around the Gershwin Theater and scheming about how to get in, the rest of the club had opted for sightseeing around the Great White Way. They were strolling around the blocks surrounding the theater in small groups, and Santana and Brittany had lagged behind a bit, listening to their classmates' conversations a few steps ahead but enjoying their own companionable silence.

Santana eyed the sky warily. Springtime in New York City might be beautiful but it also made for dicey weather. "B, it looks like rain," she said, casting her eyes up for emphasis. "We should get inside somewhere."

Brittany slowed, noted the changing sky and that the wind had picked up. "It's only rain...let's walk a little more, San." They passed the entrance for a theater school on the back side of the Gershwin when the first peal of thunder rumbled. In the time it took to walk just a few more steps, the first fitful drops of rain had fallen and Santana was looking for a place to take cover. No WAY was she getting this weave wet if she could avoid it. She grabbed Brittany's hand and took off at a sprint, which was something of a challenge given the shoes she'd chosen to wear. She spied a narrow overhang ahead on the right between the theater school and a bank, some closed-up restaurant that looked as if it were being remodeled. Santana pulled Brittany into a hug to fit them both into the small vestibule space. It wasn't much protection, and there was barely enough room for the two of them, but they could make it work for the few minutes the storm would need to blow over.

Santana blew her damp bangs off her forehead. Brittany, close enough to consume her entire field of vision, was staring down at her, nose crinkled. "It's just a little rain, San. What's the big deal?"

Santana, all too aware of holding Brittany closer to her than she had in weeks, summoned her best sarcasm to shield her from her own emotions. "And get this flawless weave wet?" she said, tossing her hair over a shoulder for effect. "Besides, razor blades rust in the rain." She smirked for effect, but her attempt to deflect fell a little flat when Brittany only smiled a little bit. Brittany stared into her eyes again and Santana felt the inexorable pull starting again. "B-Britt..." she said weakly. She felt Brittany's hands ghosting up her back.

Brittany exhaled and tilted her head a little bit, the question in her eyes. Santana breathed her in, and her resolve broke. She pushed forward and her lips crashed into Brittany's.

x X x X

It was electric, kissing Santana in the rain in New York City. Brittany wasn't thinking, only reacting. She shifted her shoulders so she could cup the sides of Santana's face, and then slid her fingers into her hair. She tilted their faces so she could get more of what she wanted, something deeper and sweeter. Santana's tongue was already stroking hers, hungrily, and she felt warm hands clutching at her hips, anchoring their lower bodies together. God, Brittany thought, she had missed this more than she knew how to say, not just the kissing but the intimacy of being close.

Brittany pulled her head back and gulped a lungful of air. "San, wait" she all but panted, eyes closed. She let her hands fall to Santana's shoulders.

Santana, for her part, was breathing hard too. "What's wrong, B?" Santana brought a hand up and gently laid her fingers on Brittany's cheek. She needed a private room with Brittany, a bed, and 15 minutes, probably less. Was that so much to freakin' ask?

Brittany shook her head, which dislodged Santana's hand from her face. "No. Not like this."

The sounds of the city intruded, then, and Santana frowned. She realized that they were standing on a very public street in the heart of one of the most densely populated cities on the planet. The rain had tapered to little more than a drizzle and she saw people hustling by their haven.

Santana closed her eyes, and dropped her hands. She shrank away from Brittany as much as she could in the limited space, felt the cold glass of a door behind her back. She wrestled mightily with the urge to kiss Brittany again, and damn anyone who was watching them. She summoned as blank an expression as possible, and said raggedly, "I'm sorry, Britt. Won't happen again." The rain had stopped completely, so it was safe to move on. She slid around Brittany and back to the sidewalk. "Let's go find the others, OK?"

Brittany shook her head and looked poleaxed. "San, wait." She reached a hand toward Santana. "Let me expl-"

Quinn's voice rang out down the street as she spied Santana on the sidewalk. "THERE you guys are!" She reached them within a few seconds, and Brittany pulled her hand back and ducked her head, her hair curtaining her face. "We thought you might have gotten caught out in that. What a freak storm!" She looked at Santana, who glared back, then Brittany, who didn't look back at all, and her eyes narrowed in the briefest calculation. Her face cleared and she said, "You guys should see the inside of this bank that we ducked into. It's huge!" She took an arm of each of them and marched them down the street toward the others, who were waiting at the crosswalk near the end of the street.

x X x X

"That's it, y'all, we need some ice and drinks." Mercedes groused. Writing original material wasn't easy when you were penned up with so many people in such a small space for too long without a diversion. "I'm going to the vending machines for a pop or something. Who's in?"

"I am," Tina said.

Quinn was on her feet in a second. "Anything to get out of this room for a couple of minutes."

"Amen," Lauren said.

Rachel stopped muttering about Steven Sondheim. "I could use a break."

Brittany rose smoothly to her feet from her spot on the floor. "I'll go for ice."

"Satan?" Mercedes prompted. Quinn quickly covered her smile. Only Mercedes.

Santana, who had been staring out the window at nothing in particular, had missed the entire exchange. She turned her head toward Mercedes. "Huh?"

Mercedes snapped her fingers. "Wake up, girl. Where've you been? We're goin' down the hall for ice and something cold to drink. Wanna walk or not?"

Santana's mask slid easily into place and she cued up her next biting comment. "Look, Weezy -"

Mercedes put her hand up. "I know, I know." She smiled. "Save the slam for helping write a song that will win us Nationals." Santana rolled her eyes, picked up her wallet and mockingly, if silently, ushered Mercedes out of the room. The others followed, and more than one was a little surprised that Santana had rolled so easily.

x X x X

Quinn Fabray was no dummy. She put two and two together as easily as the next person, and she had tallied about 3.9 when she found Brittany and Santana after the rain earlier that day. Brittany had been withdrawn and Santana was bitchier than usual in the intervening hours, which was saying something. Quinn wanted to win Nationals, no doubt, but she cared about her friends too. They needed to get back to whatever groove got busted outside that restaurant in the rain. When Brittany stopped at the ice machine, Quinn carefully herded everyone but Brittany and Santana down the hall toward the vending area.

"San? Can we talk for a minute?"

"Um...sure, Britt." Santana cast a longing look down the hall at the others' backs as if she wanted to escape.

"It's about earlier today, when it rained." Brittany put the ice bucket into the machine and concentrated on pressing the button.

"OK. What about it?" Santana coaxed.

Brittany paused, studied the toes of her slippers. "When I said, 'not like this,' I didn't mean because we were out around other people in public."

Santana was puzzled. What the hell else could it have been? She frowned, shook her head, recalling only that Brittany had stopped them. "It's OK, Britt. I get it." She didn't.

"No, I want to tell you." Brittany trained her blue eyes on Santana's anxious brown ones, blew her bangs out of her eyes. "I didn't want to be in such a hurry." She paused again. "The next time, we can go slower, right?"

"Wait-the next time?" Santana swore should could hear her own pulse.

Brittany leaned against the ice machine, crossed her arms over her chest nonchalantly, and smiled as if explaining the inevitability of daybreak to a child. "Feelings, San. Better. With feelings. When you're ready."

Brittany's smile warmed Santana all the way down to her toes. She wanted to hug her, but didn't dare. She settled for smiling back at Brittany, and meaning it.

Quinn led the group back down the hall amid general muttering. "Ugh, the vending machine is broken. We're going up a floor." She looked from Santana to Brittany, satisfied with what she saw. She gestured toward the ice machine. "Guys, your ice is melting."

# # #  
> <p>


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine.

Chapter 3

Summer was boring.

Well, not all of it. There was sleeping in, which was a plus, and the occasional floating booze-fest on a weekend, but really, Santana was pretty sure there were better things to do than tool around the teeming metropolis of Lima. It was only the tail end of June, and she was just plain bored. She smirked when she remembered that Lima was about to be in her rearview mirror after one more year of high school.

The door to the auto-repair waiting room burst open, accompanied by the inane reindeer bells suspended from the handle, and Santana set down the dog-earned three-month-old issue of _Vogue_. "Yes?" She shifted in the uncomfortable orange plastic chair.

The wiry young woman stopped a couple of paces short and said, "Ma'am, we found a leak in your air conditioning system. It's not all that big and we have the parts to fix it, but it's going to be another hour, maybe two if we take care of it. Do you want to go ahead and have it fixed today?"

Ma'am? Really? Santana wondered.

"How much?" she asked the woman.

"Including parts, labor and the coolant recharge, it'll be around $400. Plus tax."

Santana rolled her eyes and bit her tongue to keep the sarcastic retort from spilling out. Really, for four hundred bucks she'd want to get kissed too, but she wouldn't say that to another woman she didn't know.

Wait. No. Way. Her eyebrow rose slowly as she weighed the other woman's unflinching gaze.

Well, isn't that interesting? Santana let a corner of her mouth hint at a smile and took another tack that let her sarcasm ooze out anyway. Straight-up bitch, yo.

"Do I get a discount for every time I have to hear 'Before He Cheats' on your guys' radio? Because really, if Carrie Underwood had just hit **him** with the baseball bat or stabbed him with her keys, she'd be in jail signing away her rights to a Lifetime movie, there'd be no song and we could all be spared the incessant replays. It's exhausting."

A sheepish smile broke out on the other woman's face, and she seemed amused by Santana's words. "It's not my first choice of music, but the boss likes it." She lowered her voice to a stage whisper and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "It plays out there on the floor too, but louder. Sometimes I just want a pair of earplugs. Or Cee-Lo." She paused, and stepped forward. "Is that a yes? On the A/C, I mean." A little blush materialized on her cheeks.

Santana tried very hard not to be charmed and tamped down the smile that threatened. "Sure."

"OK. We'll get started on it. My name's Becca if you need anything else in the meantime." Becca smiled, and it hit Santana's gaydar like a sledgehammer. Becca backed up a step and turned around to go back the way she'd come in. Santana shook her head, smiled inwardly and pulled her iPod out of her purse to cue up something, anything, that didn't involve tractors, honky tonks, heartbroken mamas or cheating cowboys at the rodeo. Cee-Lo. Perfect.

.:.

Quinn rifled through the hangers on a clearance rack during her Friday lunch break from her summer job at the mall's chain bookstore. Summer jobs as a rule were supposed to suck, but the bookstore was okay. The work wasn't all that hard, aside from the occasional busy weekend afternoon, and it was nice to have some extra spending money. Plus there was that totally gorgeous guy over at the Gap - Sean? Shane? - who came to see her every couple of days. Halfway through her summer, though and still no real dating action. She sighed inwardly. What good was being such a pretty girl if she couldn't snag the serious interest of anyone at the mall over the summer, for crying out loud? She cut off the train of thought before she fell into the trap of feeling sorry for herself and remembering wielding power in the hallways at school as the head cheerleader. She wasn't there anymore, and it was for the better.

She shook her head to clear it, and reached for a cute blue and green swimsuit. Clearance? Sweet. It'd be just the thing for Santana's upcoming pool party and barbecue for the Fourth. Her hand collided with another hand, and she pulled back instinctively.

Inquisitive bright brown eyes sought hers out. "Quinn?"

"Rachel." Quinn was surprised to feel a genuine sense of happiness. She smiled, not the fake cheeky smile but the one her face just knew how to make without any input from the scheming part of her brain.

Rachel smiled back, and said, "So how's your summer going?"

"It's pretty quiet, all things considered. I'm working over at the bookstore until school starts." Quinn paused, and considered the ramifications of speaking again. "How about you?"

"Well, I've been working on my admissions package for Juilliard to meet the early deadline, and training with a local voice coach to keep my voice at its optimum level. I've found that I really miss our fellow Glee clubbers, and I keep thinking about what a fantastic journey we've all had over the past couple of years. I'm looking forward to senior year and the chance to return to Nationals. I don't miss the slushie facials, though." Rachel stopped for a breath, and Quinn decided to let her go on. "So, what's the swimsuit for?"

"I've decided to take up platform diving in the hopes of making the next U.S. Olympic team."

Rachel frowned in confusion, and Quinn smiled. "I'm kidding, Rachel." Rachel's face relaxed into a sheepish smile, and Quinn realized that Rachel wasn't really as much an ass to be around sometimes as Santana made her out to be. "I've got this pool party coming up in a few days and thought I might try this on, since it's on sale and all," adding the last bit conspiratorially. "So why are you looking for a new swimsuit, Rach?" The abbreviation of Rachel's name slid off her tongue before she realized it.

"My dads are planning a trip to the beach next month, and have asked me if I want to go with them. I haven't decided, but I thought that I would at least take a look around for things that I might need shouId I decide to accompany them. It never hurts to have a spare swimsuit."

"Ah. You should go with your dads to the beach. This will probably be your last family vacation before college and all that jazz." Quinn said.

Rachel surprised her when she opted to skip commenting on the obvious Broadway reference and picked up the swimsuit instead. "Here," she said, offering the suit to Quinn. "You should try this on. It'll complement your eyes."

Quinn accepted the plastic hanger, noting the strange sensation in her fingertips when they brushed Rachel's in the exchange. "Thanks. I think I will."

"It was nice to see you, Quinn. I have a couple of more stops to make before my voice lesson this afternoon, so I'd better get going." Rachel started backing up, as if to flee.

Quinn wasn't sure where the next thought even came from and she sure as hell hadn't planned to say it. "Hey, are you doing anything for the Fourth? Santana's having a pool party and -"

Rachel stopped, and looked down at the floor. "Um, I don't know if that's such a good idea. I'm still not entirely sure what threats she screamed at me right after Nationals. It's probably better if I don't show up at her house. I don't even know where Lima Heights Adjacent is" Rachel looked up, and Quinn met her shaky gaze before taking two steps toward her.

"She won't mess with you because you're coming with me." Quinn summoned her power-bitch smile to emphasize her point. "Some of the other Glee kids will be there too."

Rachel smiled faintly. "I'll think about it and let you know, OK?" She nodded once, to herself almost, turned and left Quinn watching her walk away. Quinn frowned, and decided not to consider too closely what had, or had not, just happened.

.:.

"You did WHAT?" Santana screamed into her phone. "Really? Quinn? Manhands?"

Quinn held the phone away from her ear as Santana's stream of Spanish curses flamed itself out.

"Are you finished?"

"Seriously? You think you're bringing the dwarf to my house? What happens if she 'accidentally' drowns?" Quinn could see Santana's airquotes in her mind's eye.

"Santana, let it go. We went to Nationals, Rachel and Finn screwed up by sucking face on stage, and we lost. Nobody feels worse about it than she does."

"What, you're her bestie now?" Quinn remained silent, knowing that this was the fastest route to derailing her friend's argument train. Santana huffed out a long breath. "Fine. Bring bait girl. This'd better not be a sting for 'To Catch a Predator.' And if I see any horrific fashion choices like an embroidered seahorse on a swimsuit, I reserve the right to chuck her out on her ass."

Quinn smiled and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're a handful sometimes, S."

"I know. And don't think you fooled me by calling instead of coming over to tell me this in person."

"It's harder to have a knock-down drag-out over the phone. Fewer bruises, less broken furniture to explain, and your mom doesn't start praying to the Virgin Mary again." Quinn recalled a time not too long after she got the Cheerios captaincy when there had been a fight, with bruises, a broken chair and Mrs. Lopez holding a rosary in one had and an ice pack in the other over Quinn's cheek as Santana sulked in the corner with ice over the knuckles on her left hand.

"I think she just prays when she has a spare minute, like to build up credit with the Lord for when she really needs it." Santana leaned back in her chair and smiled wide.

Both girls paused a moment and shared their laughter easily.

.:.

Rachel drove home from her voice lesson carefully, knowing she was feeling distracted. Normally she didn't do anything as risky as drive without devoting her full attention to the road and the traffic around her, but seeing Quinn at the mall and having an actual conversation had rattled her for a reason she couldn't identify. That bothered her, because she was the most in-touch-with-her-feelings person she knew. It threw her off when Quinn was actually nice to her and treated her like a person instead of a target. She shrugged and decided she would go to the pool party, rationalizing that she could go home if it wasn't fun or if the hostess was more Satan than Santana.

Rachel parked her car in her driveway spot when she got home, and pulled her phone out to text Quinn.

**Rachel**_: Thank you for inviting me to the pool party on the 4th. I'd love to go._

She unbuckled her seat belt and collected her purse off the passenger seat. Her phone chimed.

**Quinn**_: Great. Pick you up at 1:00 on Monday? I'll make sure Santana has something vegan._

**Rachel**_: 1:00 is fine. Please don't let her go to any trouble. Vegan can be complicated for the uninitiated._

**Quinn**_: No trouble - it'll be good for her. =) See you Monday._

Rachel set her phone inside her purse and sighed softly. She hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

A few blocks away, Quinn set her phone down and sighed softly. She wasn't sure what was happening here but it felt right, so she decided to roll with it for now.

.:.

Santana was enjoying the silence in the backyard by the pool on the morning of the party. She had maybe a couple of hours left before she expected anyone, and her mom and dad had been kind enough to take off for a quick getaway to someplace, well, else. No parents, some friends, some food, and maybe some fireworks if Puckerman's shady friend came through with the goods from neighboring Indiana. Puck had better show with the alcohol, too. What was a pool party without some booze?

Santana lowered the chaise to nearly flat and adjusted her bikini top. Mornings were torture, even this one, despite the iced coffee she'd made and set down beside the chaise. Maybe a quick nap would take the edge off...

::**thwop**::

Santana heard the sound but couldn't catalog it. She roused from her doze in time to see the privacy fence quiver. The next thing she saw was Brittany lightly jumping down from the top of the redwood slats to land gracefully in a slight crouch. "Hey, San."

Santana sat bolt upright. "Britt, you can't just scale the fence and jump into my back yard."

Brittany leaned down and picked up her Cheerios duffel, which had preceded her over the fence. "Why not?" She grinned and walked toward Santana. "I rang the doorbell but no one answered."

Santana shaded her eyes as Brittany's shadow fell over her, and she heard the bag hit the ground again. "You're early," Santana said, without rancor.

"I thought we could hang out before everybody else gets here. I haven't seen you since we got back from the Grand Canyon." Brittany's parents had this thing about taking their kids to see the natural wonders or some weird shit like that. Santana had certainly not counted the hours that Brittany had been gone, nor counted the hours since she had been home but not called. 192 and 28, respectively. Brittany leaned down and nudged both of Santana's legs to one side to create a space for her to perch on the edge of the chaise. Santana took in the tie-dyed bikini and gauzy sarong around Brittany's waist before meeting her eyes. "I missed you, San," Brittany said, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Santana's ear.

Santana wanted to flinch away, turn her head, anything but lean into Brittany's hand, which is exactly what happened. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tried, mostly unsuccessfully, not to nuzzle Brittany's hand. "I missed you too, Britt." She sighed and opened her eyes. "Did you have fun?"

"Totally, but it would have been so much better if you were there. We saw some cool things on Route 66, and the Grand Canyon is way bigger than I ever thought it was. I couldn't even hear an echo when I yelled into it." She tilted her head to one side. "Did you know that a duck's quack doesn't echo?"

Santana smiled, that smile that she reserved for Brittany alone, the private one that radiated happiness. "I'm glad you're back, B," she said simply. She held up a pinky, fully expecting Brittany to take it.

Brittany looked at the proffered pinky, crinkled her nose, and fluidly flipped her body so she was stretched out on the chaise beside Santana. It happened so fast that Santana couldn't brace for it. "I love holding hands with you, Santana, but I really need to kiss you now." Santana felt Brittany's breath across her lips, and didn't hesitate this time. She leaned forward a fraction of an inch, and their mouths connected softly.

Brittany shifted them both so that she was on top of Santana, and Santana shifted her hands to Brittany's back, loving the feeling of their skin touching. Brittany was kissing her maddeningly, achingly slowly, at just the right angle, and she felt the long slow burn start all over her body. She groaned into Brittany's mouth, and let her tongue enjoy dancing to Brittany's beat.

.:.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine.

Chapter 4

.:.

Brittany loved this, and took her her time tasting. It had been far too long since they had last kissed so leisurely. She knew San didn't allow anyone else this particular intimacy, the soft, slow, deep, lazy kissing, and Brittany loved being her only one. She also knew that Santana got so caught up in the destination sometimes that she'd forget to feel the joy in the journey. Brittany felt Santana's fingertips tracing up and down her back, leaving little trails of fire on her skin. Nobody but Santana made her skin burn like this with just a simple touch, and it had nothing to do with the sun as it neared its zenith. Santana let a hand settle lightly on Brittany's hip, fingertips dancing lightly through the fabric of the swimsuit. Brittany hummed in pure pleasure and pulled her head back.

Santana met Brittany's eyes, smiled tenderly and shifted so she could bring a hand up to cup the side of Brittany's face. Brittany's heart skipped a beat as Santana's hand grazed the side of her bikini-clad breast on the way up. "I'm glad you came over early," Santana said, lazily brushing a thumb over Brittany's cheek, inhaling the familiar scents of shampoo, skin, sweat. She could learn to like slow with Brittany, and she definitely was working her way up to liking "with feelings."

"Me too." Brittany shifted again to lay down with her head on Santana's shoulder, resting an arm comfortably on Santana's belly and chest. "Where are your mom and dad?"

Santana, steeped in contentment she hadn't realized she was missing, said, "They're taking a week in Miami to visit some family and _papi _has a medical conference. They'll be home on Friday, I think," she said softly. She threaded her fingers through Brittany's hair gently, savoring the soft texture, and enjoying the low-level _thrum_ that pulsed through her blood when Brittany was close.

"Didn't they ask you if you wanted to go?"

"Yeah, but I figured I'd sit this one out." _I didn't want to be gone when you got home_. "Plus it was a great chance to have a party. Pool, barbecue, alcohol, fireworks maybe, all without the watchful eyes of Diego and Paola. Well, mostly Paola." Santana smirked as she reflected on her contentious relationship with her mother.

"Who all's coming?"

"Mostly the Glee club and whoever else tags along, low-key so the neighbors don't squeal to _mami_ or _papi_. Quinn's bringing Manhands."

Brittany hmphed and admonished, "San, that isn't nice."

Santana smirked. "I know! I couldn't believe Quinn's going to inflict that on us, either."

Brittany tapped Santana's chest. "San-tana. I meant that it's mean to call Rachel names. So, do you know what's going on with them?"

Santana pondered for a second or two. "Q and Berry? I know they ran into each other at the mall last week and Quinn somehow managed to invite her here, knowing that I loathe the very sight of her."

"San, remember the night of prom?"

"How could I forget? Epic fail," Santana snorted, as she remembered that the night had not gone at all according to plan. She shifted uncomfortably at the memory of losing, and felt Brittany's legs tangle with hers, reassuring and soothing with skin on skin.

Brittany propped herself up on an elbow and met Santana's eyes. "That's not what I mean. You told me Quinn and Rachel showed up together to Puck's party. I think Rachel took Quinn home, too, after Lauren punched her." Brittany paused. "Then, the Monday after prom, in the choir room, Rachel was kindof staring at Quinn when Finn left. It was weird." Brittany shook her head.

"What? I didn't see that." Santana's mind seized on this new tidbit.

"Yeah, I thought maybe they were talking telepathically. Lord Tubbington does it to me when he's ready for a fondue refill."

Santana pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but Brittany caught the mirth in her eyes and smiled. Santana's phone chimed from the table beside the chaise. She picked it up.

"B, it's Quinn." Santana reluctantly patted Brittany to prompt her to sit up, and Santana followed suit. Brittany picked up Santana's coffee and sipped it, but set it back down after getting a mouthful of diluted lukewarm coffee. Yuck.

**Quinn**_: Getting ready to go. Do you need me to bring anything?_

**Santana**_: Nope, I think we're good here. I even have the dwarf's "special" feed._

**Quinn**_: "We?" Who else is there with you? I thought your parents were gone._

**Santana**_: Diego & Paola are gone 'til Thurs. Britt came over early._

Quinn considered whether it was safe to tease Santana about what everybody else in Glee already knew, but decided against it. Maybe in person, where she could pick a better moment, before Santana had too much tequila. She opted for the high road, for personal safety reasons.

**Quinn**_: Oh, cool. I guess we'll see you guys in a little while, then. Call if you need me to stop for anything._

**Santana**_: K. Thx, Q. _

Santana set her phone aside, stood up, and stretched. Brittany watched muscles move elegantly under smooth caramel skin, and consciously kept her hands from reaching out to touch, at least for now. What she really wanted from Santana would take longer than they had before guests started arriving. She could wait. In the meantime, though, she had a plan, launching now...

"San, can you help me with my sunscreen? I couldn't get my shoulders and back."

"Sure, Britt." _I'd like to help you with more than that_, she thought. "In your bag?"

Brittany nodded, and stood up.

Santana sat on her haunches and unzipped the Cheerios duffel. Towel, iPod, change of clothes, ah, sunscreen. She pulled it out and stood smoothly.

Brittany obediently turned around and lifted her hair off her neck. "B, will SPF 15 be enough?" Santana studied the bottle in her hand and compared it to the skin in front of her, pale but dusted with light freckles over the shoulders. "You're so fair-skinned." Santana frowned. "I think we have some 30 in the house somewhere..." she muttered to herself as she inspected Brittany's shoulders and tried to gauge whether she'd burn in spite of the sunscreen.

"It'll be OK, San. We can put more on later if we need to."

Santana half-shrugged, squirted sunscreen into her palm, rubbed her hands together lightly and smoothed sunscreen over Brittany's shoulders and back with practiced ease. She let her hands linger longer than she should have, but she was pretty sure Brittany wouldn't mind. She concentrated on rubbing it all into Brittany's skin, unable to resist trailing her fingertips down Brittany's spine to the waistband of her bikini bottom. She cleared her throat and shook her head a little to collect herself before her hands started roaming elsewhere.

"All done," she said, awkwardly patting Brittany's shoulder.

Brittany turned around, gazed into Santana's unguarded eyes, and thought, _No, we're just getting started_.

.:.

"Have I taught you nothing?"

"It's rude to be late."

"It's a _pool party_, Blaine. It's OK to be a few minutes late. Plus, we're gay. It's practically expected that we be fashionably late. You rushed me out of the house before I had time to finish my midday skin care regimen." Kurt pouted a bit, though he wasn't really upset. He enjoyed their banter and was glad to have found such a good match in Blaine. Kurt locked the front door of the Hummel/Hudson home and followed Blaine down the front steps.

"You know we don't fit all those stereotypes, Kurt. Besides, I saw you putting sunscreen on and I know that's not part of your normal moisturizing routine." Blaine winked at his boyfriend and put Kurt's beach bag into the back seat of his car.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if Santana gives me any grief about being early -"

"-you'll tell her it's the newest thing in L.A. and she'll be none the wiser," Blaine finished reasonably, and the young men got into the car.

"Fine." Kurt let a smile sneak out.

"Fine." Blaine smiled and glanced over at Kurt. It was going to be a fun day. He turned the key in the ignition.

.:.

Mercedes pulled into a parking spot at the apartment complex and picked up her phone. She was a couple of minutes early to pick up Sam. His family had moved into a 3-bedroom apartment once his dad got hired over at Interdyne doing some kind of environmental work. His mom got a job not long after that working part-time for a chiropractor, so Sam was in a better mood these days. He was doing landscaping work for the summer with his cousin to pick up a few extra bucks, but today was one of his rare days off.

It was odd, really, how quickly they'd just clicked. He'd told her at prom that she looked beautiful. When he said it that time, and every time he had since, she truly believed it. He was so easy to be around, and his celebrity impersonations were mostly kindof adorable, even if she had no idea who Sean Connery was. And Sam was a great kisser, she thought with a smile, Aerosmith lips jokes aside.

They were keeping their relationship secret, well, except that today anybody who was at Santana's would definitely figure things out when they arrived together. She fully intended to be holding his hand when they walked in.

She saw a hunky blonde man in her peripheral vision jogging to the car. He leaned down, planted a very sweet kiss on her lips, and said, "Hey."

"Hey yourself, sweetness." She smiled up at him. "What're you watiting for? Get in. We have a party to get to."

.:.

Rachel checked her beach tote again in her bedroom to make sure she hadn't missed anything. Towel and sunglasses, check. Extra sunscreen and hair scrunchie, check. Change of clothes for later on, check. Bottle of water and cell phone, check. Modest cover-up ready to put on, check She turned to inspect her reflection in her floor-length mirror, noting that the modest one-piece black suit was entirely tasteful and conservative...and _blah_. She sighed, looked at the clock. She had a few minutes before she anticipated Quinn's arrival. She dashed to her dresser and started rooting through the bottom drawer.

.:.

Quinn turned down the radio as she turned into the Berrys' driveway. Nothing like some Ke$ha to get her blood pumping. She'd been looking forward to this party since late last week, despite Santana's static about her choice of ... companion? Date? Was this a date? Quinn scoffed as she shifted into park. Certainly not. This was just a natural progression of her tumultuous history with Rachel. First rivals for Finn's affection, followed by Rachel's unflinching honesty that punctured the pregnant-by-hottub fiasco, then strange allies of a sort during Rachel's appearance crisis with her nose, and getting slapped in the girls' bathroom on prom night. Quinn shook her head. There was something humming just under the surface, but the Berrys' front door opened and she opted not to think about it anymore.

Rachel shouted something into the house, pulled the door closed behind her, and bounced lightly down the steps. Quinn approved of the light pigment-dyed aqua-colored wrap as a good set-off for Rachel's skin and dark hair. She smiled a hello to Rachel through the windshield.

Rachel opened the passenger door and settled into the seat with her beach tote on the floor near her feet.

"Thanks for picking me up, Quinn." Rachel beamed a smile.

Quinn smiled back, lightly. "It's no problem. Got everything?"

Rachel patted the bag on the floor. "Right here."

"OK. Next stop, Lopez residence, Lima Heights Adjacent." Quinn snickered after speaking the last part.

"Quinn? Where exactly _is_ Lima Heights Adjacent?" Rachel sounded a little nervous.

Quinn shifted smoothly into reverse and started backing out. "There is no such place, at least around here. Santana barks a lot. She bites, too, when she's cornered, but claiming to be 'Lima Heights Adjacent' is pure posturing on her part." She slid an easy glance toward Rachel as she shifted to first and started out of the Berrys' cul-de-sac. "She actually lives in one of the newer subdivisions a little bit east of here. Nice crib, in the vernacular."

Rachel slid on her sunglasses, dipped her head forward, and said, "That makes sense, I guess, in some way, the barking and biting."

"She's really not all that bad, even when she wants to go all ghetto-Barbie. No worries."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Rachel said quietly, and looked out the window at the passing scenery. Quinn waited a few seconds, then turned the radio back up a little bit to fill the odd quiet.

.:.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine.

Chapter 5

.:.

Puck pulled up to Santana's house a couple of minutes early, odd for him, but whatever. He ran a hand over his mohawk, just trimmed, checked his reflection in the rearview, and killed the engine. Lopez owed him big time for the shit he'd had to pull to get everything she wanted. He was no errand boy, but he liked hanging out with the Glee kids, and maybe today would be the day that Lauren finally relented and let him into her pants, or swimsuit, or whatever. He smiled big and hit Santana's speed dial number on his cell as he exited his truck.

"What do you want, Puckerman?"

Pure Santana. "Hey, Lopez, I got your shit out here. You gonna help me carry it in?"

"Depends. What'd you get?"

"I guess if you want to know, you'll have to come out of the castle and see, princess. Hope you got some of daddy's cash 'cause this shit was not cheap and it was hard to get, not that you'd know anything about hard to get." He snapped the phone shut, smiling to himself about getting the last word, and started rolling back the tarp on the truck bed.

.:.

"B, Puck's here with some party stuff. Want to round up Mike and Tina and go help him carry it in?" Mike and Tina had arrived just a couple of minutes ago and were settling towels and sunscreen on a couple of chaises on the pool deck. Santana turned her attention back to the fruit and vegetable trays she was going to set out in the kitchen.

"Sure, San." Brittany snuck an arm around Santana's midriff to pilfer a ripe strawberry off the fruit tray, and skimmed the back of her hand over Santana's abs on the way back. Santana stiffened and huffed out a breath. "Britt, you can't do that." She turned around.

Brittany, all angelic smiles, brought the plump strawberry to her lips and took a slow, deliberate bite, her lips working around the fruit. "Do what?" Her electric blue eyes were dancing with mischief that said she knew exactly what she was doing. Santana narrowed her own eyes in pique, but watched avidly as some juice escaped the corner of Brittany's mouth and started to run toward her jaw. Santana reached a hand up and used her thumb to capture it. She leaned in to kiss the spot, and Brittany tilted her head to provide easier access. "Hmmm," Santana smiled, flicking her tongue out to taste the flavor of sweet juice, and spoke softly against Brittany's skin. "I think strawberries might turn out to be my new favorite fruit..." She reluctantly pulled back rather than continue trailing kisses along Brittany's jaw, because that would lead to her throat, and collarbone, and lower... Lord, this was going to be a long day. She knew she could fight her own desire but she'd be sunk if Brittany was waging war too. Brittany put a hand on her arm and started caressing lightly, still looking into her eyes.

Mike slid the patio door open. "Hey, sounds like Puck's out there yelling about illegal fireworks and alcohol. Should we go help him?" Santana heard the door open but didn't step away from Brittany or her eye contact.

"I'm with you, Mike," Brittany said, with a smile and a wink for Santana alone. "Let's go." Mike watched with poorly-disguised interest the body language between the women, and let it go because silence was the better part of valor where Santana and her temper were concerned. He could get the dirt from Brittany later if he wanted to anyway, he reasoned, not that there was much blank to fill in after the last couple of months of glee club meetings at school. Brittany and Mike made for the front door to help Puck before he town-crier-told the whole neighborhood what was happening at the Lopez house.

Tina walked in a few seconds later, looked around at the kitchen, and then at Santana. "You need help with anything in here?"

_None that you can give me, unfortunately_. "No, I think everything's under control in here." She smiled softly. "They might need help carrying in God-knows-what from Puckerman's truck, though. Want to see if they can use an extra pair of hands?"

"Sure." Tina followed in Mike and Brittany's wake, and Santana picked up Brittany's unfinished strawberry. She bit in, decided it tasted good, but it didn't portend well for the remainder of the day that she thought Brittany tasted way better.

.:.

Finn pulled up behind Puck in an ancient Chevy pickup, and shifted to Park. He wasn't even sure why he'd even come here. He and Santana did not exactly get along, even after she'd swiped his V-card. Truth be known, he thought, neither of them was really that into it, and he'd been honest when he'd said he hadn't felt anything because it hadn't meant anything. She had a bangin' bod, sure, but all he'd really wished for in those few operative moments was that it was Rachel with him instead of a viper-tongued hag wrapped in a sexy-as-hell package that turned frigid and distant afterward. He hoped it wasn't too late with Rachel, and he wondered if she was coming to the party today. He shrugged mentally, and turned to Artie in the passenger seat.

"Ready, man?"

"You know it, brother. Let's get some sun and company of lovely ladies."

Finn hopped out of the truck and hefted Artie's chair out of the bed. Artie opened the door and accepted Finn's help to get situated in the chair on the sidewalk.

"Finn, it looks pretty clear from here, like I can manage. You want to grab the cooler and stuff?"

"Yeah, man, cool." Finn hung Artie's bag over the handles of his chair, and muscled the cooler and his own bag out.

"Let's roll." Artie pushed off, and Finn wheeled the cooler of beer behind him. Sometimes Kurt's dad was pretty awesome, hooking him up with a case of cheap beer. Finn liked to think that his own dad might have done that for him. It might not get them wasted but it'd sure be a good start.

.:.

Quinn pulled into Santana's driveway in the spot in front of the third garage door. Rachel stared. "Really? THIS is where she lives?" An imposing blonde-brick monstrosity was not a house. It was a fortress. "Good grief."

Quinn smiled and reached across the console to lay her hand over Rachel's smaller one, resting on her thigh. "It'll be OK, Rachel. I promise. Remember, mostly bark and just a little bite. I won't let her get on you today. I promise." Rachel felt comforted immediately by Quinn's hand on hers, and spent a smile. "OK, let's go."

"'Atta girl." Quinn pulled her hand back, and both girls wondered why they felt a little less full at the loss of physical contact. They exited the car, gathered their things, and tried not to walk too closely to each other up to the front door.

.:.

The front door was open, so Quinn gently pushed the storm door open and said, "Hello?" She heard Santana's voice say, "In the kitchen, Q." Quinn opened the door for Rachel and allowed her to enter first. What Quinn hadn't counted on, though, was Rachel's full stop only two steps in, and Quinn ran right into her, Quinn's front to Rachel's back.

Wow, THIS is a foyer," Rachel said, with wonder lacing her words.

Quinn chuckled, noted that she was still in full electric body contact with Rachel, and self-consciously stepped aside. "It IS impressive. No matter how many times I see it, it gets me." Grand, sweeping double staircase, real marble, tasteful wrought iron staircases, huge antique chandelier, richly-appointed furnishings, modern art and thick area rugs.

Santana had stalked out of the kitchen toward the foyer, owning the place in her simple black and very brief bikini.

"Dwarf, if you're done gawking, everyone's outside already."

Quinn frowned, and felt the protectiveness well up. She bristled. "And thank you, Santana, for the gracious welcome to your lovely 'Lima Heights Adjacent' home," she all but spat.

Santana's expression relented as she considered the body language between Quinn and Rachel. Maybe Britt was right and there was something going on here. Santana cataloged this away to consider later. "Fine. You're right, Quinn, though it chaps me to say so." Santana made a mocking, sweeping bow. "Welcome to my home, Berry, Quinn." Quinn saw Rachel relax a bit in her peripheral vision.

"Thank you, Santana. It goes without saying that you have a lovely home," Rachel chanced.

"It does, Berry," she said without any real venom, and a slight smirk. Santana reasoned that she could make an effort, since Quinn was one of her oldest and only real friends. She turned her attention to include Quinn. "There's some food out in the kitchen already, some beer and wine coolers outside, and a mini-bar setup at the island in the kitchen. Help yourselves to anything. We're all hanging outside to catch some sun and pool."

The three of them heard the opening bars of Hot Chelle Rae from the speakers outside and took that as a cue to move toward the others. Quinn smiled at Rachel, and Santana noted that it wasn't the fake Cheerios smile. Rachel smiled back at Quinn, and Santana caught herself before she made a gagging noise or rolled her eyes, and even stemmed a sarcastic jab in favor of cataloging this to tell Brittany about later. Maybe love was in the air just as much as the humidity and heat of a Lima summer. Rachel reached for Quinn's hand, and Quinn let her take it. They both felt a foreign sensation shimmering through their arms and the rest of their bodies as they followed Santana into the kitchen and let go of each other reluctantly only when they stepped outside.

.:.

Brittany took in the scene surrounding Santana's pool: Blaine slathering more sunscreen on Kurt's shoulders (and Santana's admonishment that she'd "love to see what burned porcelain looked like"),Tina and Mike dancing to the latest Lady Gaga pumping through the speakers, and even Sam and Mercedes trying not to make out with their eyes on adjacent chaises set apart a bit from everyone else. Santana was in a heated discussion with Quinn, between shots of tequila, about the relative merits of returning to the Cheerios for senior year, and Rachel was absorbing the sun. Quinn was trying very hard not to scope out Rachel in her bright yellow bikini, or so Brittany thought. Finn and Puck had been cannonballing into the deep end of the pool, trying to outdo each other for the biggest splash. Artie was beside Rachel, enjoying the quiet and the sun beating on his bare chest and legs.

Lauren walked up beside Brittany with a cup of vodka-laced cranberry juice in one hand. "So, Brittany, what's the dirt on you and Lopez? You two got it together yet? You guys are killing me with the denial." Lauren focused on Santana across the pool with her head bent close to Quinn's.

Brittany was rarely surprised by questions anyone asked her, and this was no exception. "I'm working on it, Lauren. We're in love," she said simply. Brittany's expression grew dreamy and wistful. "Now I just have to convince her that it's OK to be in love with each other around other people."

Lauren snorted in a distinctly unladylike manner. "Even a blind person could see you two are crazy in love and totally meant for each other. If I can hold off Puckerman for 4 months, surely you can convince one smokin' hot if bitter teenager that happy is better than miserable. And that's what she is without you: miserable." Lauren took a hit off her drink through a bendy straw and looked at Brittany expectantly.

"You speak truth," Brittany opined sagely. Her expression softened when she contemplated Santana. She knew she could reach her, but she didn't want to force anything or cause more heartache or damage in the process.

"Have you told her?" Lauren still toyed with the straw as she watched Puck climb out of the pool and shake his head to clear water from his ears. She noted with appreciation how the water drained off his toned and tanned body. Mmm, she was going to hit that sooner rather than later.

"Of course. She's just freaking out over what people will say and think behind her back."

"Fuck 'em, I say." Lauren's voice took on the ring of authority. "I don't let that shit hold me down. Look at me. I am gonna bag the hottest stud on the football team, I ran for prom queen and almost won, and I kick the ass of anyone who gives me shit. Surely Lopez can do at least as much as that."

"I hope so," whispered Brittany.

Finn climbed out of the pool too, cast a longing glance toward Rachel, and retreated to his chaise on the other side of Artie.

"Well, I'd love to chat about your girlfriend's insecurities, but I have some meat to tease. Excuse me." Lauren sauntered off toward Puck, placed a hand flat on his chest, and laid a kiss on his mouth that left no doubt about where her thoughts were trending.

Brittany watched the exchange, and decided it was cannonball time for her too. She ran toward the deep end of the pool and shouted "Cannonball!" just before she hit the water.

.:.

Santana shook a litle pool water out of her eyes, and smirked despite herself. Britt didn't cannonball often, but when she did, there was a big splash, and not just literally. Santana contemplated the state of her hair briefly, decided that a new weave could be in her future, and smiled at Brittany as she popped up over the edge of the pool.

"Cannonball, Britt?"

"It was hot, San. The water's really nice. You should come in." Brittany playfully splashed some water up over the edge. Santana squeaked. It was cool, but she wasn't going to get one-upped by Brittany.

"Yeah, 'San,' you should go cool off a little bit. It's too hot to talk about cheerleading and maybe getting back on the squad." Quinn said. She was having a hard time not sneaking glances at Rachel and her unexpectedly toned abs, arms, and everything else she routinely kept covered up. What the hell was going on here, anyway? The lesbian hormones at Santana's must be freaking contagious, but she'd been hyper-aware of Rachel ever since she dropped that cover-up and let her gorgeous woman's body show through the little bit the bikini covered. Quinn hmphed to herself and laid back on the chaise, and willingly let the heat start baking away her conscious thoughts. And the unconscious, unbidden ones.

"C'mon, San," wheedled Brittany.

"Okay, but it's only because I want to."

Brittany didn't care about the rationale, as long as Santana got into the water with her.

Santana took off her sunglasses and sat gracefully on the edge of the pool, with her feet dangling in the water up to almost her knees. Brittany splashed her again.

"Come on, San, that's not _in_."

"I'm getting there. Don't rush me." Incremental immersion was better than instant - less shock to the system that way, right?

Brittany pouted. "Give me your hands."

Santana cocked her head sideways. "Really?"

"Don't you trust me, San?" Brittany oozed sincerity.

Santana evaluated. She did trust Brittany, but she saw very clearly that she was going to be yanked into the pool if she surrendered. Really, though, what were her options? She mentally kissed this weave goodbye, because the chlorine would destroy the glue, but she was ready to touch Brittany again after a little tequila. She held her hands out with utter faith, closed her eyes, and braced for deep, cool water.

.:.

Brittany gently took Santana's hands, and a deep breath before using her legs to push off the pool wall. Santana fell into her arms as they both went under, their hair mingling in the water and momentarily blocking what anyone might otherwise have seen. Brittany found Santana's mouth underwater by instinct, and pressed their lips together as gently as she could manage. Santana opened her eyes and looked directly into Brittany's, surprise appearing before surrender.

Brittany let go as they broke the surface of the water, and both treaded water without breaking eye contact. Santana's heart was pounding, both from the shock of being dunked and from Brittany's unexpected overture.

"See? I told you it wasn't so bad, San." Brittany gracefully swam for the ladder, as if to exit the pool. Santana was faster.

"Oh, no you don't. No one dunks a Lopez and gets away with it scot-free." She caught Brittany's ankle and yanked hard. Brittany lost her handhold on the ladder, and snorted some pool water. She came up coughing, and with a competitive glint in her eye. She launched from the wall and had Santana in a headlock before Santana was even sure she'd moved.

"Watch me," Brittany snarled, just low enough to Santana to hear it, and for a delicious shiver to run down her spine at the words and the sensation of Brittany's body pressed intimately into hers from the back. "Deep breath, San," she warned. Santana knew there was no point in struggling against Brittany's superior height and leverage, so she took the deep breath and was dunked again.

Lauren had released Puck, who noticed a blonde head and a brunette head dipping below the surface of the pool water. "Anyone got a waterproof video camera?" he called out. Lauren grabbed one of his nipples and gave it a savage twist, which earned a howl of pain from Puck. "Let it go, stud." Puck glared at Lauren but accepted a sip of her cocktail in appeasement.

.:.

It was so quiet underwater, Santana thought. She opened her eyes, and saw Brittany in front of her now, so close. Brittany blew a couple of bubbles out of her mouth, and smiled gently. She moved back in and pressed her lips sweetly to Santana's, with a little tongue. Santana opened her mouth to welcome Brittany, and jerked when she felt Brittany's hand on her breast, brushing her erect nipple through the bikini top. _Not fair_, thought Santana, as she felt her body's response to Brittany's touches. Her stomach flipped a little bit and she knew beyond doubt what she wanted. She wrapped one hand around Brittany's ribcage and secured her legs around Brittany's waist. She felt Brittany smile against her lips, and tasted her own moan in both their mouths.

**::splash::**

The tandem sound of two bodies diving into the water shocked them apart, and Santana surfaced, sputtering a bit. Tina and Mike were starting some kind of water fight, which was Santana's cue to exit the pool. She heard Mike and Tina soliciting for others to play Marco Polo, which was fine as long as she was not in the crossfire. She met Brittany's eyes sheepishly, and swam for the ladder. They both reached it at the same time, and Brittany's eyes promised something more than just stolen fondling underwater. Santana nodded once, tersely, and looked away before she resumed the mantle of party hostess and levered herself out of the pool. Brittany watched her go, disappointed a little but knowing there were still hours to go before this party was over.

.:.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine.

Chapter 6

.:.

Rachel enjoyed laying out in the sun, though it was not an indulgence she often permitted herself because of the inherent risks that sunbathing presented. Squamous cell carcinomas, sunstroke, and premature aging of the skin were the top of the list of bad outcomes. She wanted to preserve her youthful good looks for as long as possible so she could enjoy a longer career performing, wherever it might end up being. She smiled sleepily, stretched luxuriously on the chaise, and mentally gave herself a gold star for changing out of the black one-piece in favor of a light-colored bikini. The black would have been unbelievably hot, with the high temperature forecast to be over 90 degrees. She felt the heat penetrating down to her very bones, and decided it was time to go get in the water before the sun-sponsored lassitude carried her the last little way to sleep.

She quietly stood up, unaware that at least two pairs of eyes were on her as she carefully picked her way across the hot concrete to the shallow end of the pool. She gracefully walked down the built-in steps and sighed in bliss before submerging.

.:.

Santana was gently blotting the water from her hair with a towel, and noticed Quinn noticing Rachel not noticing Finn. Santana frowned and reached over to poke Quinn in the side. Quinn squeaked and whipped her head around to glare at Santana through her sunglasses. They spoke no words, but Santana jutted her chin toward the water where Rachel had just disappeared and let her expression ask the "WTF?"

Quinn's face betrayed only a single involuntary downward mouth twitch, which Santana interpreted from years of practice as a hearty "nunya" with a "back off" chaser. Santana leaned back in amazement as realization coalesced and her eyes widened. Quinn ... liked Manhands? Oh, no. This was too much. Santana smirked knowingly as so many pieces fell into place, and she had the pleasure of seeing Quinn's lips purse in frustration while her forehead creased in a frown. Jackpot.

"Come on, Q, I need your help in the kitchen." Santana stood and knotted the towel around herself.

Quinn uttered an exasperated sigh. "Fine," she bit off in a frosty tone that more closely said _like hell you do_. She braced her arms on the chaise, gracefully stood up, slipped on her wrap, and followed Santana across the yard toward the house.

.:.

Brittany watched Mike and Tina recruiting some of the others to play a game in the pool. Marco Polo? She didn't know Marco, but was pretty sure San hadn't invited him. She slicked her hair back and climbed up the ladder to get out of the deep end. She saw Santana and Quinn walking toward the house, and opted to lay down on Santana's abandoned chaise to dry off a little bit.

Meanwhile, Rachel had declined the invitation from Tina to play the game in the pool, and was walking back toward her chair.

"Hey, Rach," Brittany said, as she shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun.

"Hey, Brittany." Rachel squeezed the excess water from her hair and sat down.

"You're totally rocking the bikini. Yellow's a good color for you." Brittany turned and smiled at Rachel over Quinn's empty chaise. Rachel looked away shyly, then back.

"Thanks. It was a last-minute choice. I abandoned my one-piece because it was black and would have been entirely too hot to wear all afternoon in the sun. So really, it was for comfort more than style or fashion." Rachel didn't add that she wanted to see how Quinn would react to something a little more risqué than what she would otherwise wear. So far it'd been a bust because Quinn hadn't said anything.

"Hey, Rachel, Brittany." Finn had walked over with a beer and lowered his frame to sit on the end of Quinn's empty chaise.

"Hey, Finn," both girls said simultaneously.

"Great party," he said conversationally.

"Yeah, perfect weather for a pool party and it's great to get to hang out for a little bit," said Brittany. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that breakfast was a long time ago. "I think I'm gonna go see if Santana needs any help in the kitchen." She stood up, collected her towel and walked off toward the house, toweling dry as she went.

"So, Rachel ..." Finn began, awkwardly. "I was wondering if you might want to get together and do something later this week. I'm waiting tables for the summer at that Greek restaurant across from BreadstiX but I'm off by 9 every night. We could go to a movie or a late dinner or go find some live music to listen to, something..."

Rachel listened to Finn and part of her really wanted to say yes. She couldn't pull the trigger on it, though. After Nationals in New York and the debacle on stage, she realized that she wasn't going to sacrifice her dreams to someone else's needs or wants, even Finn's, and it might be time for her to move on. He was comfortable, and good-looking in a goofy, oafish sort of way, but he had "Lima Lifer" written all over him. Her plans included going back to New York after graduation for school and to chase her dream of performing. There was something else that kept her from accepting Finn's offer, though, and she somehow knew it was tangled up in Quinn Fabray. She sipped her wine cooler and in the interest of letting him down easy and quickly, opted for the kindest explanation she could manage.

"Finn, I appreciate the thought. I've been pretty busy getting my application materials together for Juilliard including an extensive video of some of my more memorable Glee perfomances, rehearsing daily with my voice coach, and my dads and I are going away on vacation next week."

Finn knew a blow-off when he heard one, though he couldn't figure out why Rachel had been all over him a month ago and now seemed too busy to be bothered. He took it well, saying only, "Oh. Sure. Well, you have my cell if things change and you decide you want to hang out, or whatever."

Puck watched from across the pool as his bro was crashing and burning with the other hot Jew at the party. He cannonballed into the pool and surfaced within inches of Finn's large feet. He spat a mouthful of pool water at Finn's toes and said, "Marco Polo, man. Come on, don't be a pussy." Puck backflipped into the water again and showed up across the way by Tina and Mike, who were actively soliticiting around the pool for more players.

Finn smiled a bit, as a man who knows he's lost the round, and said, "Guess I'd better get in there."

"Guess so. Looks like fun," Rachel said, neutrally, but she followed it with a kind smile.

Finn stood up, promptly tripped over his own feet, and fell sideways into the pool. He surfaced rapidly and said, "I'm OK, I'm OK," before sheepishly swimming off to meet the other players.

Rachel contemplated the pool scene in front of her and reflected that she'd never much cared for pool games. Such frivolities tended to reward strength, stature, or stamina, which were not really her strong suits. She preferred more cerebral activities that gave someone of petite stature a level playing field. Consequently, she enjoyed strategy games like chess, games that required quick or analytical thinking rather than physical agility.

With such thoughts in mind, like maybe Quinn would enjoy playing chess, Rachel rolled to her belly to let the sun bake her backside. Little did she know that she had another surreptitious audience.

.:.

Santana did a once-over of the kitchen and surrounding areas to make sure that there were no eavesdroppers. Once she was satisfied, she cornered Quinn near the sink that with a large window that overlooked the backyard.

"Spill it, bitch. And I want ALL the details." Santana spoke as she lined up two shots of tequila for each of them.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Quinn said in her best patrician dismissive tone, as she looked out the window.

Santana handed Quinn the salt shaker, a slice of lime, and a shot glass full of tequila. "Bullshit, Fabray. I've known you since grade school and I can read you like _Redbook_. You're covering something up."

Both girls downed the first shot and chased with lime.

"Covering up what, exactly?"

Santana feigned extreme frustration and huffed out an impatient breath. "I don't know, stretch marks?" When Quinn didn't react, Santana waved a hand in the air, rolled her eyes and tried again. "Come ON, we can all see that you and RuPaul out there have something weird going on. You like her, don't you? The hobbit in the bikini?"

Quinn blindly grabbed her second shot, slapped the last shot into Santana's errant hand, and they both drank. Santana stared at Quinn. Quinn swallowed, let the tequila hit her broadside, and leveled a hard stare back at Santana.

"What there is, or is not, going on between Rachel and me is none" - Quinn poked a finger into Santana's sternum - "of" - another poke - "your" -poke- "damned" -poke- "business, Lopez. Got it?"

Santana was unfazed. Quinn's vehement denial and the pokes in the chest virtually guaranteed that Santana was close to paydirt. "Wow, so this is like, what, a DATE or something?" Santana faux-convulsed in fits of laughter. Quinn's hold on her temper broke and she struck with something sure to draw blood. Well, metaphorically speaking.

"Maybe we should talk about you and _Brittany_."

Santana sobered immediately, narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists menacingly. "Maybe we _shouldn't_."

"The whole damned Glee Club knows you're 'together,'" hissed Quinn, with airquotes around that last word. "Why not dump the hiding and the pretenses? Seriously, I think the only person at school who really thought you and Karofsky were dating was the freshman nerd who's legally blind and didn't make it out of the science wing but for meals and to shower twice a week."

Santana reached for the tequila bottle again, but Brittany slid across the floor with impeccable timing and control to nip the bottle away.

"San, you guys have already had, what, at least two shots in here? Honey, you need to slow down."

Santana's face froze at the mention of the endearment in front of Quinn. Quinn saw it, and made a decision on the spot. She dialed down her pique and smiled benignly at Santana and Brittany. "Guys, it's time for the tough love speech, and since neither of our Glee captains is here to deliver it, I'm going to step in." Quinn took a deep breath, waited for Santana's defiant eyes to meet hers, and collected Brittany's calmer gaze too before she resumed speaking "We all love you both no matter what. Everyone in the Glee Club already knows that you two love each other, a lot, and I've known about you guys for a long time. Somebody guessed that Santana would be a lot less bitchy if she could just come out already." _Thank you, Kurt_. Quinn stepped closer to them. "This is your official blessing to come out today, at least to the Glee Club. Think about it, OK? This is a safe place to be yourselves, and be together. Make it official, you know, at least among Glee? Nobody out there will judge." She gestured out the window where Mike and Tina were cavorting in the pool, Sam and Mercedes were contentedly sharing a single chaise, Kurt was curled up on Blaine's shoulder singing to him softly, and Lauren had Puck in the pool in a good kind of headlock, against her bosom. Santana's face softened when she saw most of the others paired off outside, enjoying a summer day seemingly without a care in the world.

Quinn felt pretty good about her speech, but was not prepared for a missile-launched Britany peppering her face with dry kisses and chanting "thank you, thank you, thank you." Santana, feeling the effects of two fast tequila shots, was clearly wrestling with something as tears brimmed in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. She managed to say, "I'll think about it, Fabray," as she blinked hard, bit her lip and turned her head away for a moment. She reached up to wipe her tears away, and looked back at Quinn with what looked suspiciously like gratitude. _Thank you_. "But don't think you're done answering questions about Berry. I saw you checking her out in that itty bitty bikini the second she slipped off that wrap today, and I know you were scoping her ass getting situated up in that chair just a minute ago through the window." Quinn blanched as Santana continued, "You. Are. Hot. For. Rachel. Berry."

Brittany picked up on the thread of the earlier conversation and tilted her head. "Really, Q?"

Quinn's knee-jerk reaction was pure and classic Fabray: plausible deniability and shut down. But she forced herself to talk, not because she needed the catharsis but because she wanted to break the Fabray Way and didn't want to lose the chance to talk with two of her oldest friends who might actually be able to help. She said softly, "I don't know what it is, guys." She sighed. "It's the weirdest thing. We've been mortal enemies for most of high school, and suddenly it's like she knows what I'm thinking and is über-supportive and understanding."

"She's been like that all along, Quinn," Brittany said gently. "Not to be mean, but maybe you just weren't ready to notice it yet."

Quinn contemplated Brittany's words, and found more than a grain of truth in them. She shrugged. "You know, the night of prom, we had a fight in the girls' bathroom. After Finn and Jesse started their shoving match and got kicked out. I was going to bitch her out good, and I slapped her, hard, right across the face. I was so unbelievably angry, and then so embarassed that I lost control like that." Quinn reflected, and knew the tequila was making her awfully chatty. "We ended up talking and she helped me fix my mascara." She closed her eyes, remembered what it had felt like to have Rachel that close to her, and something deep in her belly flipped a little. "I like being around her, and I haven't figured out the rest of it yet." Because she'd deliberately avoided thinking about it or analyzing her reactions. Santana had hit it head-on, the bitch. Quinn _had_ ogled Rachel in the brief bikini when the wrap came off, and the implications of her reaction were something Quinn didn't really want to face yet.

Santana dabbed the rest of the tears from her eyes and smiled, a genuine smile she reserved exclusively for those who knew - and loved - her best. "Q, believe me, I know how confusing this must be. It's like your world gets knocked off its axis or something."

"I'm not sure what all it is, but I'm not ready to do anything ... rash." The last time she'd done that, it hadn't really worked out all that well, she thought wryly. "And don't be nice, or supportive, or understanding. It's easier to deal with you when you're a little bit bitchy." She smiled fully at Santana.

Santana summoned her swagger and threw a hand on her hip, definitely ready to change gears. This _was_ a party, after all, and a Lopez party at that. "Quinn, I'ma think about what you said. But in the meantime, we need someone to work over the grill. I already wrecked a weave today," she said, with a sidelong look at Brittany, "and the manicure is _not_ going to be next. We need a man to drive the grill." She smirked. "Since we don't have any here, I suppose one of the teenage boys out there will do. And yes, I have some weird ass tofu burger shit to put on the grill for the dwarf, er, Berry." She glared at Brittany after an elbow to the ribs.

"So, Q, you go find someone to fire up the grill and let me talk with Brittz about logistics for the rest of the afternoon..." Santana gave Quinn a playful shove toward the door, and Quinn felt demoted to third wheel just that quickly. She turned around to protest getting pushed and ask exactly what "logistics" meant, but Santana had already stepped closer to Brittany. Brittany was playing her fingers along Santana's shoulders, and Santana was weaving her fingers into Brittany's damp hair to pull her in for what looked like an epic kiss. Quinn couldn't resist: "Still here, guys!" Santana turned only her head, eyes glinting, and said, "Then watch and learn, junior." Santana turned back to Brittany and tenderly brushed her lips across Brittany's. Brittany met her on the next pass and pulled Santana closer. Quinn had had enough visual by that point. It was one thing to tease but another to creep and actually watch her friends making out. She heard Santana's towel hit the floor as she left the kitchen quietly and closed the sliding glass door behind her. She snorted a little when she realized she envied what they had together.

.:.

Santana felt the counter pressing against the small of her back as Brittany leaned into her, trailing kisses along her jaw. "San, you kindof taste like the pool."

Santana smiled. "You don't say, B."

"So, did you really want to talk about the rest of the afternoon or was that your way of getting rid of Quinn?" Brittany rested warm hands on Santana's hips.

"Hmm, both." Santana grinned. "We seriously do need to get ready to sling some burgers on the grill." Santana leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Brittany's collarbone. She took a deep breath, and asked, "So, B, what do you think about what Q said?"

"Totally something going on there between her and Rachel." Brittany nodded sagely. "If they haven't kissed each other yet I think they will sometime today. Rachel is smokin' in that bikini."

Santana looped her arms around Brittany's waist. "No, Britt, I meant about...telling everybody out there about us." She forced the words out in a rush.

Brittany glanced out the window at their friends enjoying the carefree day, and Quinn's successful recruitment of Samcedes to staff the grill.

"San, I want to tell them about us, but..." Brittany bit her lip and looked down, meeting Santana's nervous eyes.

"But?"

"Are you ready? I know this is a big deal. It's not something you can really take back once you say it, you know?"

"Yeah, B, I know. I guess Q's right, though, that everyone already knows." Santana frowned. "I just hate the labels, you know? And I swear if Berry says one word about sapphic anything I'm gonna throw her over the privacy fence myself. Into the neighbor's yard. Where there's a huge Doberman. Mean. Snarly. Big teeth."

Brittany smiled indulgently down at Santana. "I know, baby."

Santana hugged closer to Brittany, laid her head on her chest, and made the decision.

.:.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine.

Chapter 7

.:.

Quinn, task complete with the successful conscription of Mercedes and Sam, gingerly toed through the crispy grass toward her chaise. She deliberately avoided checking out Rachel's rear end, slipped her wrap off and laid back down. _Too much tequila, too fast_, _and I don't think I'm ready for any of this, whatever __**this**__ is_.

"Well, I don't see any blood or bruises on you anywhere, so things must not have been that bad in there." Rachel's words were a little muffled because of the way her face was resting on her chaise.

Quinn smiled tightly, and said, "Like I said before, she's mostly bark and only a little bite. We were just getting food logistics squared away."

Rachel lifted herself up on her elbows and looked over at Quinn. "And some tequila," she teased.

Quinn languidly rolled her head toward Rachel. "Maybe. Don't judge." She smiled despite herself. "How was the pool?"

"Fine. The water's really a great temperature for a quick dip in to cool off, and since I was starting to fall asleep in the sun I thought I'd better go do it."

"Hmm," Quinn murmured in response. She hadn't really noticed before how deep and expressive Rachel's eyes were. And beautiful. She realized she was staring, and tore her gaze away. Her hand trembled a little as she pulled her sunglasses from the top of her head to resettle on the bridge of her nose. _Get it together, Fabray_.

Rachel swallowed, confused. Quinn had been looking at her, staring, really, with something she could only identify as hunger, and she'd felt a little shift low in her belly the longer Quinn had looked at her. She concluded that Quinn was tipsy, since there had been multiple tequila shots consumed already today, and that people did socially inept things, like stare, when intoxicated.

"What'd Finn want?" Quinn asked, with a tone that slipped out more like jealousy than bona fide interest.

"He asked me out."

"Oh. How nice." _Not_.

"I guess. I turned him down."

"Why?" Quinn chanced a look over at Rachel, who was studying her hands.

"I'm going to be really busy over the next few days and I'm going on vacation with my dads, so I won't be here. I didn't want to make a" - she hestitated at the next word "-n appointment I couldn't keep."

Quinn made the "hmm" sound again, turned her head away from Rachel, and fell silent.

Rachel sighed, rolled back over and volunteered, "the people in the pool are playing some modified version of Marco Polo. You should go join in. It looks like fun, with the -."

"I'm not really feeling Marco Polo right now."

"The new swimsuit looks nice on you. We were right about the color."

"Thanks."

Rachel, stymied again, picked up her wine cooler and sipped. Ugh, lukewarm and the effervescence had faded. It was probably time to switch to water anyway, to stave off dehydration. She felt around for her sunglasses and put them back on as silence fell between two chaises.

.:.

Meanwhile, Blaine and Kurt were debating the relative merits of joining the roughhouse version of Marco Polo in the pool.

"I'm going in," Blaine said. "It looks like fun."

"It's so _juvenile_. But I guess we're here to have fun, right? OK, I'm in," Kurt concluded.

Blaine's attention wandered to Rachel and Quinn across the pool. "How long do you think before they both figure out that they want to be more than friends?" he asked Kurt softly.

"Are we taking bets?" Kurt grinned. "Seriously, there are so many sex hormones in the air here today I'm surprised there's any oxygen left." Kurt waved a hand in front of himself for emphasis, and contemplated the scene. "Ten bucks says they at least make out today. After that, Quinn will shut down, Rachel will try to write a song about it and talk herself out of asking her dads anything because she'll rationalize that such a pretty and popular girl couldn't possibly be attracted to her, and Santana will ride Quinn harder than a swayback mule for the next two weeks until she spills because Quinn will be insufferably bitchy. And don't even get me started on the psychological minefield this creates because they fought each other like rabid wolverines over Finn."

Blaine chuckled, reached over to Kurt, and took his hand. "I love you."

"I know. I love you, too." Kurt smiled. "Now let's go show these people how fabulous Marco Polo can be."

.:.

Santana closed the sliding glass door behind herself and Brittany. She took Brittany's hand, laced their fingers together, and walked over to the iPod dock in the shade of the house. She turned down the music, then stepped away from the shadow and into full sunlight.

Santana, still with Brittany's hand in hers, watched as the splashing in the pool gradually slowed down.

"Hey, I, er, we, have something we want to tell you guys," Santana spoke softly, too softly for everyone to hear. Tina elbowed Mike in the pool to focus his attention and whispered, "Finally!"

Santana saw all eyes in her back yard slowly come to rest on them.

"Louder, Lopez, I have water in my ear," Puck complained. Lauren swatted his head and shushed him. Puck continued to hit the side of his head to try to force out the trapped water.

Sam and Mercedes walked over from the grill, hand-in-hand, so they could hear and see. Artie sat up. Kurt and Blaine stopped short of the pool steps.

Santana held on to Brittany's hand for dear life.

"I'm, I..."

Quinn took her glasses off and sat up, silently rooting for Santana while she watched. She hadn't thought that they'd actually do it today.

Brittany soothed softly, "Go on, San. You can do this."

Santana swallowed, nodded, swept her eyes around to see everyone in the back yard, and took a deep breath. "I'm gay. I'm in love with Brittany, and we're together."

The was utter silence for a full second, and then a whooping cheer went up from the pool, led by Tina and Mike. Quinn beelined over to wrap Santana and Brittany in a huge hug, and Kurt and Blaine ran to join the hug too. Sam and Mercedes were next, and Rachel sat on her chaise, smiling. _Oh_, _screw it_, she thought, and ran to join the massive hug. Lauren fist-pumped in the pool, and even Finn smiled. Artie looked away and sulked for a couple of seconds before he realized that Brittany had never really been completely his to start with. He sighed, and smiled because he was happy for Brittany if she was happy. She definitely looked happy.

Puck cleared the water from his ear, sighed and took in the commotion. "Hey! What'd I miss?"

.:.

Amid the happy cacophany and congratulatory hugs, no one was happier than Brittany. She really hadn't thought Santana would actually do it, knowing how much she struggled with accepting herself first. Brittany thought briefly about baby ducks and baby steps, then surrendered to the pure joy coursing through her.

.:.

Santana let the happy tears course down her cheeks unchecked. She hadn't expected such an overwhelmingly positive response. Well, maybe from Kurt and Blaine, she thought dryly, but certainly not from everyone else.

Kurt spoke the first coherent words. "Guys, this is so awesome! I mean, we already knew, but now we can actually _talk_ about it!"

"Seriously, congratulations, you two," Blaine added. "You look so happy right now."

"So, Satan, does this mean you're not going to be as crabby from now on? 'Cause you know we could all use a break." Mercedes held her gaze for a split second before her face split in a huge smile. "Go get it, girl," and she grabbed Santana for a hug. Sam smiled wide behind Mercedes, and for once Santana didn't have any lip jokes.

"Brittany, congratulations. I'm incredibly happy for both of you!" Rachel exclaimed, and wormed her way closer to Brittany for a hug.

Santana saw this and said menacingly, "Watch it, midge, that's my woman you're trying to mack on." Rachel froze, and Brittany frowned.

"Oh, can it, Santana," Quinn said reasonably. "She's just giving her a congratulatory, friendly hug. Speaking of which..." Quinn deftly defused the tension by stepping forward to collect Santana in a huge bear hug. She positioned her lips near Santana's ear, and whispered, "Way to go, tiger. Proud of you."

Santana just hugged back and her soul felt twenty pounds lighter. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

.:.

Rachel slipped away from the group to go inside for some water. She didn't really want to know what Puck was whining about with his wild gesticulating between Santana and Brittany, though she did see Santana clench a fist and rear back to pop Puck one good before Brittany nonchalantly grabbed her arm from behind without even stopping her conversation with Mercedes. Rachel shook her head, and guessed the vein of Puck's comments was less congratulatory and more salacious proposition.

She wandered toward the refigerator and spied the abandoned tequila, salt shaker, and bowl of lime wedges on the counter. She half-snorted a laugh, and thought, _What the hell, it's a party_. She picked up one of the two shot glasses without the slight imprint of Santana's lipstick on it and decided she'd shoot from one that Quinn probably drank from. She poured and did the salt routine she remembered observing during the party in her basement. _Down the hatch_, she thought, and the tequila burned her esophagus all the way down. She shuddered and stuck a piece of lime in to suck on, which didn't help.

Water. Water definitely called for here.

She whipped the refrigerator door open and spied bottled water on the bottom shelf behind a watermelon. She bent over to pluck one out, but had to work a little bit to shift the watermelon..

.:.

Quinn closed the sliding glass door behind her, still chuckling at Puck's chutzpah. Suggesting a threesome with Santana and Brittany was a surefire way either to get clocked by an incensed and cursing Santana or bent into a pretzel by Zizes. _Or both_, she thought, shaking her head. There was a certain comfort in knowing that some things didn't much change.

She stopped short.

What. The. Hell.

That most decidedly was Rachel Berry's backside standing in front of the open refrigerator. Her gorgeous, full, filling-out-that-bright-bikini-bottom-in-the-best-possible-way backside. Quinn shook her head and thought about going somewhere else, anywhere else, but her feet didn't cooperate.

Rachel stood up, twisted the cap off the water, and greedily drank. Ah, there, the cold doused the fire from the tequila. She realized she was not alone, that Quinn was staring at her again.

"Quinn?" Rachel smiled tentatively.

Quinn shook her head again to try to clear it. "Yeah." She smiled back. "Quite a day," she offered.

"I'm just happy that Santana felt comfortable enough, here at her home and surrounded by her friends, to make her formal coming out declaration. I mean, it's not as if we didn't all know already, but she's on the road to accepting herself instead of hating who she is. It's healthier that way. Do her parents know? Half the kids at school suspect something, expecially after the blind items in the newspaper." Rachel set down the water and braced her hands on the counter. The tequila, on a mostly empty stomach, was making her feel warm and just, well, looser than normally felt.

Quinn walked over to Rachel, and told herself it was only for the tequila, nothing more. "Want to do a shot with me?" Quinn's eyes sparkled, and Rachel felt caught.

"I, uh, just had one." Rachel wasn't sure why Quinn was standing so close to her, close enough that she could smell the sunscreen and feel the heat radiating off Quinn's body.

"I can't drink alone." _Am I really flirting with her? _"And you chased it with water, so it should be fine." Quinn reached around Rachel and gritted her teeth against the sensation of skin brushing skin when their shoulders touched. _Is this what it feels like to fight attraction to another woman? God, no wonder Santana's so bitchy all the time. How does she stand it?_ Her fingers closed around the neck of the tequila bottle, and she picked it up. "Glasses?" _This is a bad idea, Quinn_.

Rachel slid aside. "They're on the counter." Her heart was hammering in her chest.

Quinn expertly rinsed two glasses, poured two healthy shots, and collected the salt shaker. "Do you take it with salt?" she asked softly, holding Rachel's eyes again.

Tequila fueled Rachel's bravado. "Sure."

Quinn handed Rachel a shot and the salt shaker, and picked up her own shot. She held up the rim of her glass to Rachel's. "Cheers, Rachel."

Rachel smiled. "Cheers, Quinn." Glasses clinked, then Rachel slowly licked the back of her hand and sprinkled salt on it. Her eyes drifted closed as she licked the salt off and Quinn inhaled sharply when she felt a flutter between her legs. Rachel expertly tossed the shot back, and grabbed a lime wedge, wincing a little bit. _Still burns,_ she thought, as she sucked on the lime.

Quinn took the salt shaker from Rachel's fingers, licked her own hand, sprinkled, and set the shaker down on the counter. She caught Rachel's eyes again as she slowly lapped the salt from her hand, and Rachel knew she had never seen anything so erotic. Quinn lifted the glass to her mouth and tipped the tequila in. She set down the glass and grabbed a lime wedge in one smooth motion. She caught it in her teeth, sucked and then dropped it into the empty shot glass.

"See? That wasn't so bad," Quinn soothed. She realized she was standing way too close to Rachel just to be doing shots, but she didn't want to move away.

"No, not bad at all." Rachel leaned against the counter behind her, and dropped her eyes to the floor. _I'm not really sure what is going on here but if one of us doesn't move out of this corner I am going to try to kiss her_.

"Look at me," Quinn said softly. _This is a bad idea, Quinn_.

Rachel bit her tongue before she could say that she didn't think it was a good idea to look at her. She lifted her head, and her earnest eyes met Quinn's clear hazel ones, just a few inches away.

"Quinn, I -"

"Shut up, Rachel," Quinn murmured as she closed the remaining distance and full-on kissed Rachel Berry.

.:.

Rachel did as she was told, and shut up. She felt how easily Quinn fitted their lips together. She felt Quinn's tongue lazily flick across her lower lip, and she was pretty sure she moaned .She brought her hands up to Quinn's shoulders, though she wasn't sure if it was to push her away or pull her closer. She opened her mouth a little and felt Quinn's tongue again, tentative. God, Quinn tasted amazing, spiced with tequila and lime and a little salt. Her fingers tightened on Quinn's shoulders.

Quinn's head was spinning, and not just from the shots. Her hands settled on Rachel's hips and she pressed closer, wishing she'd worn a bikini too so she could feel Rachel's bare stomach against her own. Her tongue glided across Rachel's lips, and she whimpered when Rachel's tongue met hers, softly. _Peaches, she tastes like peaches_, Quinn thought. She ran her hands up Rachel's sides and around to press her palms to the warm, smooth skin of her back. Rachel let her own hands slide down from Quinn's shoulders to rest on her upper chest.

The sliding door opened and Santana stepped through, muttering softly to herself. "It's just a flesh wound, hardly even a scrape. Puckerman is such a freaking baby someti-"

She fell mute when she saw Quinn and Rachel pressed up against the counter. She decided on the spot that this was not something she needed them to know she knew. She could afford to be gracious since the whole coming out to Glee thing had gone over so well. She rolled her eyes, a little disgusted at the idea of going soft, but she quietly retraced her steps, opened the door silently, and started shouting outside before she came back in.

"I SWEAR, PUCKERMAN, YOU ARE THE BIGGEST CRYBABY WHINER!" She wrenched the door open as loudly as she could, and kept up her tirade. "I don't know why I even put up with his ass sometimes! _Que idiota_!" She took her time closing the door, and then turned around. Rachel was gone, and Quinn stood staring hard out the window with a fist pressed to her lips.

"Q," Santana began, "I need to find some antiseptic and a bandage for Puckerman. He may have 'slipped,'" airquotes, "when he was propositioning Britt and me to a three-way, and I don't mean that weird chili and spaghetti shit they serve down in Cincinnati. Come help me find the first aid kit."

Quinn dropped her hand, turned and looked at her. Santana fought off a shiver because Quinn's expression was so closed and brittle. "Sure. Where is it?"

"I think there's one in the basement. C'mon." Santana led the way, but checked to make sure Quinn was following her. She let the tiniest of smiles lift a corner of her mouth, until she realized that Brittany would want to go on double-dates with Quinn and Rachel once they quit fighting each other. Wasn't that just effing great? She stomped down the stairs, with Quinn in her wake.

.:.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine, and I do take some liberties with canon.

A/N: It turns out that the Faberry material practically writes itself. There's only so much angst I can drag poor Brittany through. There's a little more angst in the pipeline, because it can't be all rainbows and unicorns in high school. It's a Universal Truth (No. 102. Look it up. It's right after the one that says you can only have two of these three at any given time: a hot lover, a hot car, or an awesome apartment).

I enjoy reading your reviews. I haven't asked for reviews before now, but if you have something constructive to offer, I'm all ears, er, eyes.

Next update might be a little while in the making due to day job commitments. Stick with me.

.:.

Chapter 8

.:.

Rachel stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen, and she felt her heartbeat still racing. _What in the world just fucking happened?_ She pursed her lips, and noted that she could still taste Quinn on them: a little tequila and tang of lime. She still felt the imprint of Quinn's hands on her back, too, and she couldn't deny the obvious: she was really turned on after kissing Quinn Fabray. It was never like this with Finn or Puck; Finn was all sloppy slobber and Puck was too much tongue and roaming hands. Jesse had been a ridiculously failed experiment who couldn't stop thinking about himself long enough to turn on anything more complicated than a light switch. It was completely new, in her limited experience, because she hadn't before felt the undeniable physical arousal that Quinn was able to stir up in less than 5 minutes. She frowned. The easiest thing to do would be write it off as two shots of tequila in rapid succession, but that wasn't being completely honest. She was attracted to Quinn, and more than as just a friend. _This can not be happening_. She closed her eyes, performed a deep breathing exercise to calm herself a little, and wondered briefly what she would say to Quinn. "Improvise, Rachel," she said to her reflection, and gave herself a small smile. Not much of a pep talk, really, but it would do.

.:.

Quinn let her thoughts run wild as she helped Santana look for the first aid kit. Wasn't her father a friggin' doctor? Shouldn't there almost be a doctor's office somewhere in this behemoth house? She huffed out an impatient breath. She knew what was really bothering her, though. She'd kissed Rachel Freaking Berry, really kissed her, like with some tongue. And she'd thoroughly enjoyed it, enough to contemplate going back for round two and thinking wryly that Katy Perry was flat-out doing it wrong if she only _liked_ it. Quinn frowned and shook her head again. If Santana and her blessedly loud mouth hadn't interrupted them, they might still be making out in the kitchen and most assuredly hands would have roamed to other body parts. She bit back a groan as she felt the flutter of arousal again when she thought about tagging second with Rachel and getting her hands on her perfect ass. _Stop it_. This was NOT supposed to happen, getting hot and bothered with another woman, for heaven's sakes. She had her deeply-rooted faith and she had paid dearly for the single mistake she'd made with Puck, and this was definitely not in her plans. She narrowed her eyes, and spied the first aid kit on an upper shelf. She reached up to grab it.

"Hey, S, I found the first aid kit."

"Nice. Now we have to go chuck it at Puckerman and tell him to fix up his own boo-boo. Oh, remind me that I have to stop at the freezer so I can get him something to hold over his black eye too. Three-way, my ass. He wishes. We're way too hot for him to handle for more than two minutes anyway, and even two minutes is a stretch," Santana smirked and looked up at Quinn to see if the joke at Puck's expense had registered. "Q? You ready?"

_Not really. Rachel's up there somewhere and I have no idea what to say to her. And I think I want to kiss her again_. "Let's go."

Santana didn't miss that Quinn was distracted, and her brow furrowed during the climb back upstairs. She hoped that she would be able to help Quinn once she was ready to talk, or listen.

.:.

Rachel walked through the kitchen with relief when she saw it was empty, picked up her abandoned water, and practically ran back outside. Safety in numbers, she thought. She stalked back to her chaise, set the water down nearby, and dove into the deep end. There were no questions in here, just moving arms and legs and cool and quiet.

Kurt had watched Rachel march out of the house on autopilot, and he stopped what he was saying to Brittany as she stood beside him. "Oh, dear."

"What's wrong, Kurt?"

He looked at Brittany. "Have you noticed anything ... unusual going on with Rachel?" Kurt didn't want to overplay his hand because Brittany was not always the quickest on the uptake.

"Yeah, she and Quinn have been totally acting weird around each other since prom. I told Santana I think there's something going on with them and that they would at least kiss each other today. Rachel's totally owning the yellow bikini and Quinn can't keep her eyes off her butt or her boobs."

Kurt blinked. He hadn't expected that much perspicacity from Brittany.

"I concur. In fact, I propose that - "

"Kurt, it's sweet of you to propose, but I'm dating San." Brittany looked apologetic.

"No, Brittany, I was going to say that Rachel doesn't walk like that unless something is wrong. If Quinn's acting strangely too when she comes back out, something is definitely up."

Brittany nodded.

"Oh, look, I think Puck got his bleeding to slow down," Kurt said, with hope in his voice. "Looks like the tourniquet helped, though he shouldn't have asked Santana if he could use your bikini top for it."

"Yeah, he probably wouldn't have the black eye then too," Brittany agreed. "I hope they bring him something cold to put over his eye."

The sliding door closed and Santana barked at Blaine, "You. Go get the burgers out of the fridge, including the dumb-ass tofu ones, and bring them out here." She pointed at Kurt. "You, help him." She pointed at Sam, over by the grill. "You. Is the grill hot yet?" Sam nodded vigorously. "I love it when a plan comes together." Santana turned to Quinn, offered the bag of frozen vegetabls she'd snagged from teh freezer, and spoke more softly. "Will you take this over to Zizes so she and Puck can patch him up? I don't want to be that close to him for the next few minutes or I might accidentally spill a gallon or two of pool chemicals into his widdle boo-boo."

Quinn smiled, a little looser than she was before. She silently gave thanks that Santana was there to help her get back to feeling normal. "I know what you mean. I'll take care of it." Quinn walked over to Puck and Lauren, first-aid kit in hand.

Rachel hauled herself out of the pool and sat alone on the edge for a minute, observing the others with a poker face as she squeezed water out of her hair.

Santana pulled Brittany into a hug and snuggled her head on Brittany's chest. "Mmmm. This. Is. Nice." Santana closed her eyes, wallowing in sheer contentment against Brittany's skin and swaying a little bit. "Hey, B?"

"Yeah, babe?" Brittany smiled indulgently, loving how natural it felt to hold a happy Santana like this, around other people.

"You're staying tonight, right?"

Brittany hummed and pretended to mull it over. "Well, I told my mom I'd be home before midnight..."

Santana pulled her head back and looked up at Brittany with her eyes narrowed. "Really?"

Brittany's straight face broke quickly and she grinned. "No, not really. I told her I'd be home probably sometime tomorrow, and she understood because I hadn't seen you for like a week. Of course I'll stay tonight." She leaned down and brushed a chaste kiss across Santana's lips, and whispered teasingly, "Do you think it's too early to send everyone home now? I kind of want to show you how brave I think you are, and how much bravery turns me on." Brittany rested her hands on Santana's lower back, high enough to be borderline respectable but low enough that Santana knew she'd wanted to palm her ass instead.

Santana did shiver then, and very briefly entertained the idea of telling everyone else to get the hell out of her pool and house because she wanted to have sexy times with Brittany. "Hold that thought, B. We'll have everyone out by midnight, if not sooner, and we have nowhere to be tomorrow, except I might need to get my hair done. Regardless, we will def get our swerve on tonight." Santana let a slow, sexy smile crease her face, and Brittany couldn't help noticing how breathtakingly beautiful Santana was when she smiled and meant it. "Maybe I can show you how grateful I am for your patience with me, and how much that turns ME on." Santana raised her eyebrows suggestively and Brittany laughed.

"It's a date, San."

"You bet your ass it is. Nobody else is getting anywhere near you for dating purposes except me."

"I don't want anyone else."

Santana laid her head back down on Brittany's chest, comforted and a little aroused at the same time. "Better not. I'd have to ... well, you know the rest. That Lima Heights Adjacent threat is getting pretty stale, isn't it?" Santana chuckled softly.

"San? Where IS Lima Heights Adjacent? We've lived here for a long time and I don't think I've ever met anyone else from there."

"Ohhhkay, y'all, that's about enough PDA. We have stuff to do to get ready to serve food to these hungry people." Mercedes' tone was jesting, and Santana could be bothered only to open one eye to look at her.

"Weezy, I'm busy chillin' with my girlfriend, and if you think THIS is PDA, I got news for you. It's not technically PDA until fluids are exchanged." She smirked at the surprised look on Mercedes' face. "Relax, _chica_, I meant spit. Sheesh. Besides, can't Sam hold a platter in his mouth and still have both hands free?" _Still totally badass_.

"San, I think Mercedes is right," Brittany said gently.

"Fine," Santana said petulantly and reluctantly stepped away from Brittany. "Berry!" she bellowed. "In the kitchen with me, now."

Rachel stood up, grabbed her towel, knotted it around herselfself-consciously, and meekly walked toward the house without looking at anyone else or saying a word. Kurt and Blaine had brought out the burgers and watched how awkward Rachel's movements were, how out of character for her. Kurt looked at Blaine with an eyebrow raised, and Blaine shook his head sadly. _Maybe someday it won't be such a big deal for teenagers to sort out being attracted to the same sex_. Kurt looked over at Quinn and watched her tracking Rachel's progress. Her expression was carefully, coolly, and utterly blank.

"B, do you and Mercedes want to handle making sure everybody's set with whatever they want to drink?"

"Got it covered, San," Brittany said after Mercedes nodded at her.

.:.

Santana slid the door closed behind her. Rachel had walked in first, and was clasping her hands a little awkwardly. "So, what did you need help with, Santana?"

"First I need some more alcohol. This has already been a stressful day and I think I am still too sober, considering this is supposed to be a party. Is there any tequila left?" Santana walked over to the bottle and picked it up. "Thank God." She turned to shoot a look at Rachel over one shoulder. "Want one?"

To Rachel, this was all a little too surreal. To see the purest practitioner of the mean girl persona actually doing something considerate was a little much. "No, I'll skip it, thanks."

Santana's eyes narrowed and she measured Rachel's body language and facial expression. "Berry, you look like you could use one. How about a half-shot, half-pint?" There was no venom, and Rachel tilted her head sideways.

"Why are you actually speaking to me somewhat civilly, Santana? Are you planning to slip something into my drink so you can do something diabolical to me later, like shave my eyebrows or write a slur on my forehead in permanent marker?"

Santana rolled her eyes and turned around to face Rachel. _Shit, those are good ideas. Would serve Puck right if I can get him drunk enough to pass out and I can distract Zizes_. "Look, Berry, I'm not turning over a new leaf or anything. I _like_ being bitchy and keepin' it real. It's how I roll. But you seriously look like you lost your best, or in your case, probably only, friend and today of all days I do not feel like kicking a girl when she's down. Extreme cruelty to midgets is not my gig, at least not on national holidays." When Rachel's expression didn't change, Santana huffed and relented. "You really do look like you can use some cheering up."

Rachel weighed her options. "OK, a small shot," she acquiesced. Santana turned around to pour. "It's just that I've come into some unexpected knowledge and complications, and I'm not really sure how to deal wi-"

"Berry, I swear, do not test my patience. I don't do therapeutic listening. Let's get our drink on, and then you'll tell me what it is that you need with your weird vegan food since I promised Quinn." Rachel flinched at the mention of Quinn's name, and Santana pretended not to notice. She placed Rachel's half-shot on the kitchen island with the salt shaker and a piece of lime on a napkin. "Down the hatch, RuPaul."

Rachel walked over, picked up the glass, and downed it straight, without salt or lime.

Santana nodded, impressed. "Well, looks like you're not a rookie anymore. I only like salt with tequila when it's a body shot off Britt." She smirked and downed her shot with the lime chaser.

"About that, Santana..." Rachel began, and almost lost her nerve when Santana's eyes narrowed and the fierce look came back to her features. "I wanted to applaud your courage. My dads have talked about what it's like to come out, and that you have to start with coming out to yourself first. I don't know how hard or scary it is because I have never done it myself, but based on what my dads said I think you'll be happier."

Santana bit back the sarcastic retort she was going to unload, only because of what she had seen in her kitchen less than thirty minutes ago. She knew what it was like to be in that place of need and uncertainty and was pretty sure there'd be days in the future where she'd still have ... issues. She frowned a little upon realizing that and unexpectedly quietly said only, "Thanks, Berry."

Rachel, sensing her small victory, said only, "You're welcome." She paused. "Now, what kind of vegetables do we have?" Santana opened the fridge and peered in. "Looks like some organic baby carrots, some sliced cucumber, vine tomatoes, bibb lettuce and a couple of bell peppers from the farmer's market. There are also some veggie chip things in the pantry and Trouty Mouth and Weezy should be grillin' up whatever that tofu 'burger,'" airquotes, "is."

"That sounds perfect." Rachel lightly elbowed Santana out of the way and pulled the vegetables out. "I'm all set in here to wash, slice and dice. Go get back to your guests." Rachel smiled and made the shooing motion with her hands.

Santana was unaccustomed to being dismissed but decided to roll with it because it meant she got to go back outside with Brittany. "A'ight, I'm outty."

.:.

The meal passed uneventfully. Puck pounded a couple of beers in rapid-fire succession and challenged Finn and Sam to a burping contest, which Lauren unofficially won. Quinn stayed away from that mess and stuck close to Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, Artie, Tina, and Mike. Rachel also joined the group and appeared to have regained her composure. She was nursing another wine cooler, and Quinn noted form the label that it was peach-flavored. _Peaches_. Her mouth watered and her expression soured a little bit.

"So I was like, 'Oh no you din't!'" Artie was finishing an anecdote about taking the SAT where a proctor had tried to confiscate his mechanical pencils in favor of wooden ones, citing an obscure regulation not covered in the test prep booklets. Quinn tuned out because it didn't seem particularly germane or funny. She'd already taken the SAT and had done well enough to have a fighting chance at getting in to a good school, maybe even her first choice, with her extracurriculars and academic performance. Her attention wandered across the pool to Santana and Brittany, who were cozied up together and browsing pictures on Brittany's cell phone from her family vacation to somewhere out west. Quinn tamped down a wave of jealousy at their easy intimacy, and still marveled at Brittany's innate ability to turn Santana from a vicious raging shallow bitch to a happy gooey piece of putty in her hands. You'd never know it was the same person.

Rachel was also watching Santana and Brittany, and smiled when she watched Santana brush a lazy, tender kiss across Brittany's jaw in response to something funny she'd apparently said. She wondered if she would ever be comfortable enough with another person to do something like that, and marveled at how well-matched they seemed to be. Her eyes brushed past Quinn in the late afternoon light and their gazes locked. Rachel's beathing hitched irregularly and she looked away first, and Kurt drew Quinn's gaze next. He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything. Quinn stared back, hard, to warn him off, though her expression betrayed nothing else. Rachel stood up and walked over to collect her bag, with the intention of going inside to change her clothes. Kurt rose to follow her.

"Rach, wait up. I hear you're working on your application to Juilliard." Rachel stopped and smiled back at Kurt.

Quinn watched them enter the house chatting animatedly, and sighed. This was entirely too complicated. She took another sip of appletini and slipped further into her own rioting thoughts.

.:.

"I'm applying to NYU too, but they don't start taking applications until a little later on in the summer. Where are you applying to, Kurt?"

"Probably Julliard and NYU too, with Blaine. Little Lima, Ohio is going to take New York, and Broadway, by storm!" Kurt looped an arm through Rachel's as they padded toward the powder room on the first floor. Kurt cleared his throat.

"So...you know you can talk to me about anything, anything at all, right, Rachel?" Kurt asked softly.

Rachel stopped and looked at him. _He knows. How did he figure it out?_

"Yeah...yeah, I know, Kurt." She shifted the bag in her grasp and looked away. "I'm just really confused right now and I'm not ready to talk to anyone yet."

"I know it's overwhelming, Rachel. I'm not going to push."

"How did you know-?" Rachel looked panicked.

"I had a pretty good idea. You and ... your new ... friend are just giving off some unusual vibes, that's all." Kurt smiled gently. "You know you can call me to talk whenever you want, right? No matter when it is, even the middle of the night." He leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to Rachel's cheek. "You're not alone, ok?"

Rachel closed her eyes and for the first time that day fought back tears. "Thanks, Kurt. That means a lot. I don't even think I can talk with my dads about this. It's so new, so unexpected..." Her eyes brightened a little. _I'll write a song to help me over the rought spots!_ "OK, I think I'm ready to get out of this bikini and into some real clothes."

Kurt held her gaze for a full second, and said, "You know, she had a really hard time keeping her eyes off you today, or more accurately, your butt and your bust. This bikini was a superb choice, if you were looking to shake her up a little bit." He smiled. "See you back outside, diva."

.:.

Santana finished lighting the last of the tiki torches outside in the dusky and gathering twilight, and the fragrance of citronella carried on the light breeze. _Shit, don't let Quinn over here because if she breathes too close to an open flame we might need to call the fire department_. Quinn was on her fourth appletini on top of the tequila shots that Santana knew about, and she was definitely past tipsy and careening toward outright shitfaced drunk. _And Quinn is Berry's ride. Shit, I do not want them in my house tonight while I am kinkin' with Britt_. She motioned to Sam, the unofficial bartender, with a point toward Quinn and a finger drawn across her neck: _She's cut off_. He nodded. Santana nodded back, once, and walked around the pool where Quinn was slouched in a chair alone near a side table, staring hard at something Santana couldn't determine.

"Hey, Q," Santana started. "How about some water?"

"I don' need any water, Sssantana." She grabbed her glass, drained it, and started waving it around. "Sam! Play it again!" She giggled.

Sam didn't respond and quietly shuffled off to join the others sitting near the other end of the pool.

"Quinn, you've had enough liquor for today. Let's go get you some water." Santana reached to take Quinn's arm gently.

"Get your damned hands off me! I don't need water, I need another fucking drink and for you to leave me the hell alone!" Quinn shouted. A few heads turned and Brittany got up to walk over to them.

Quinn's outburst lit Santana's fuse. She grabbed Quinn's chair by the arms and leaned down. She spoke menacingly and drilled her eyes into Quinn's. "You. Are. Drunk. You're coming with me, even if I have to carry your sorry, drunken, moody ass inside, and you _will_ drink something besides vodka or I will have the boys waterboard it into you. Remember cheerleading camp from last summer?" She paused for effect. "When Coach Sylvester showed us the waterboarding technique video she made in Iraq, while we ran 8 miles on treadmills?"

That got Quinn's attention and she slumped back into the chair. "Fine. You're a bitch, y'know that?"

Santana stood upright and put a hand on her hip. "Of course. You wouldn't know what to do with me if I weren't." Santana waved off Brittany with a quick smile. _I got this_. She could handle a drunk Quinn with one arm tied behind her back. Brittany smiled back and walked back to the others.

Quinn stood, wavered, and sat back down, hard. "Shit." She glared back up at Santana. "I hate you. I hate everyone here."

Santana quirked an eyebrow. This sounded familiar. "I know."

"I can't believe I ever thought it was a good idea to be your friend." Quinn rubbed a hand over her face, marveling at how numb everything felt. _Numb is good. I don't have to think when I'm numb_.

"I know that too."

Quinn squinted up at her. "And your hair looks like shit."

"And your gaping pores are seeping a swamp-ass, sweaty, toxic stew of tequila, apple schnapps and cheap vodka, which I was not going to mention until you dissed my hair." Santana smiled. "Let's go, princess." She held a hand out and waited for Quinn to take it. Quinn grasped her hand and pulled herself to a standing position. Santana wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist and they slowly walked toward the house.

"This party sucks, Santana," Quinn muttered churlishly as she leaned on Santana more heavily.

"Not as much as your hangover's gonna," Santana countered, and opened the sliding glass door.

.:.

"Yo, Finn, beer me, bro."

Finn reached into a cooler and tossed a can of Natty Light to Artie and grabbed a second for himself. He reached into his bag and pulled out a t-shirt to put on. He looked over at Rachel, and still couldn't figure out why she had turned him down flat. He shrugged. Maybe she'd get over it and call him after she got back from vacation or something. He cracked open the beer and took a long pull. He watched Santana helping Quinn into the house, and shook his head at the mystery of girls overall. He didn't get their moods or whatever.

Puck leaned over and nudged Finn's foot. "Wanna fire up a blunt, bro?" Puck's black eye gave him an even edgier, badass punk look than usual.

Finn debated. Aw, why not? "Yeah."

"Cool. Come help me roll one, well, maybe two. There's a lot of people here."

"Well, uh ... wo else here smokes it?"

Puck considered. "Whoever wants to." He grinned wickedly, slurped some of his Johnnie Walker out of a plastic cup, and said, "C'mon, I gotta go get some stuff from my truck. We'll get baked and then shoot off some fireworks. It'll be epic."

.:.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine, and I do take some liberties with canon.

Achtung: drug use, coarse language and sexual situations ahead. You have been warned.

.:.

Chapter 9

.:.

Rachel watched from the foot end of a chaise as Santana half-carried an intoxicated Quinn into the house. She bit her lip, worried that Quinn was not going to feel well later, and worried that their encounter in the kitchen had driven Quinn to seek out more alcohol than her system could metabolize. Brittany sat down beside Rachel and deliberately leaned over to bump against her reassuringly. "It'll be OK, Rach. San's really good with her, even when Q doesn't feel well." Brittany's eyes were kind and knowing.

Rachel was dumbfounded. Just who all knew about whatever was going on between her and Quinn? She looked down at her toes. "I'm just worried because Quinn's my ride home." She paused. "It looks as if she might not be able to drive home tonight."

Brittany frowned. Rachel was flat-out lying about that being why she was worried. Plus it was super-weird that Rachel wasn't still talking. She talked a lot, and people usually interrupted her to make her stop talking. Brittany had an idea that might help her feel better, though. "Rach," she said, as she stood up, "Come walk with me for a minute."

Rachel frowned, but got up and followed Brittany into the house, thorugh the kitchen and toward the front entryway. Brittany detoured through a door into a gorgeous solarium, complete with leafy green houseplants and lots of glass, and closed the door behind Rachel.

"Brittany?" Rachel had no idea why Brittany had brought her here.

Brittany smiled as she turned on a lamp and sat down on a wicker setee facing the middle. She patted the spot in front of her, indicating that Rachel should come sit down by her. Rachel did.

"This is where I come to think sometimes, if San's not home yet or in the shower or whatever. Or if she's terrorizing her mom. It's quiet and peaceful." Brittany's face in the glow of the lamp was serene. "So what's going on, Rach? You've been kindof, I don't know, not yourself today." Brittany looked down and started plucking at the hem of her sarong. "It just seems like something's bothering you."

Rachel sighed. "I'm not one to hide from my feelings, Brittany, and I'm not going to start now, but there's something unexpected going on and I am completely unprepared to deal with it all."

Brittany looked back up. "Do you want to talk about it? I'm a pretty good listener."

Rachel was truly touched. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Thank you for offering, but I don't think I'm ready to put it into words yet."

Brittany thought about how she and Santana had fought this very same battle, well, mostly Santana. What good was knowing stuff if you couldn't help somebody else struggling with the same thing? "You know, the first time I kissed Santana we were 13. I knew I wanted to for a long time before that, but I was waiting for her to make the first move." Brittany smiled a little bashfully and dipped her head. "I kindof got tired of waiting."

Rachel smiled, enjoying the rare glimpse into what was by all accounts a very complicated relationship dynamic between the mercurial Santana and sweet Brittany.

"I knew the first time I saw her in elementary school that she would be someone very special to me. She made my heart feel so full, even though I didn't know back then what the feelings all meant." Brittany's gaze grew distant. "I was so scared when we kissed the first time, scared that she would run away and never talk to me again." She fell silent.

After several seconds passed, Rachel chanced, "So what happened after that?"

"She said it was OK because we were practicing for kissing boys. She held my hand, and then put her head on my shoulder and hugged me." Brittany snorted softly. "I knew it was more than that because it didn't feel like practice to me, it felt like kissing _her_ because that's what I wanted to do. Kissing her and being close to her like that just felt right, in here." She tapped her chest, over her heart. "But I was so relieved that she didn't leave that I went along with it."

Rachel's heart ached for the younger Brittany who had risked so much.

"You were very brave."

"One of us had to go first. I might still be waiting for her to put it together if I didn't go first." Brittany smiled wryly at Rachel. "So I guess what I'm saying is that we should trust our feelings...not be afraid to take a chance, even if it's scary, because it might end up being the best thing ever." Brittany's smile turned her face ethereal, and Rachel felt the knot in her chest loosen a little. "Does that help, Rach?"

Rachel considered. "Yes, Brittany, I think it does."

.:.

Santana had half-hauled Quinn upstairs to the guest bathroom so no one else would see her. Santana was pretty sure there would be some vomiting in Quinn's near future, and she would ultimately appreciate climbing the stairs as a small price to pay for privacy. _Those Fabrays, all about privacy and saving face_. Santana groaned. Quinn was effing heavy when she wasn't carrying much of her own weight.

"Alright, princess, let's sit down." Santana eased Quinn to the floor near the toilet with a grunt and propped her up against the wall.

"What are we doing in the bathroom? I thought you were going to force me to drink some water," Quinn groused.

Santana flipped up the toilet seat. "Let's call it a hunch. I think you're going to be sick and it's a lot easier to clean up puke on a tile floor." Santana gracefully sat down across from Quinn.

"Ugh," Quinn said. "Did you really have to use the word 'puke?'" Quinn squinted at Santana, noting with some alarm that there were two of her. "And I can hit a toilet in my sleep, Lopez. I had morning sickness for 2 months, remember?"

"Not after a quart of tequila and 4 martinis, you didn't," Santana shot back. _Shit. Quinn's always been good at pushing me, and it just makes me want to push back. Down, girl_. "Let's just sit here a minute, OK?"

Quinn snorted lightly, and Santana marveled at her ability still to be so dainty when she was so drunk. "I so did not have a quart of tequila," she muttered under her breath. Thirty seconds passed in silence but for their breathing. "It's Rachel's fault, anyway."

Santana's ears perked up. "Berry?"

Quinn's eyes were closed, knees clasped to her chest, and Santana saw the sweat beading on her upper lip and brow, sure signs that the storm was brewing in Quinn's stomach. "She looked so. fucking. hot. in. that. bikini." Quinn carefully enunciated each syllable clearly. "I couldn't help it."

"Help what, Q?"

Quinn exhaled raggedly, and gutted out, "I kissed her today."

Santana was shocked to silence. Not at the news, of course, but that Quinn, closed-off ice-queen Quinn, actually said the words. She must be worse off than Santana thought, to have admitted it aloud. "Q?"

"Tequila..." Quinn's eyes flew open and Santana saw the storm break. To Quinn's credit, she did hit the toilet. Santana held her hair back and handed over a damp washcloth when the retching was over. _What are friends for_?

.:.

Puck lit the joint he'd rolled and took the first hit. He passed it to Lauren on his left, and held his breath for a few seconds. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout," he wheezed out, the high hitting him hard. Finn laughed and Mercedes rolled her eyes with a smile from her comfy spot nestled against Sam's shoulder. Artie was waiting his turn to smoke, chatting conversationally with Mike about game strategy for the newest Call of Duty game to hit XBOX 360. Tina and Kurt were in deep discussion about the latest trends in cosmetics and how best to match skin tone with shades and colors. Blaine just looked amused, downed the last sip of his cocktail, and tried to engage Sam in a conversation about the NFL labor dispute, and how many games would be missed in the upcoming season if both sides didn't get it together soon.

Brittany and Rachel came back outside, and both noticed that two people were missing. "I'm gonna go find Santana and Q, Rach." Brittany was gone and grabbing Quinn's beach bag before Rachel could say anything.

.:.

Brittany found Santana and Quinn on the second floor after she swept the first floor of the house. Brittany saw the light from the guest bathroom and knocked on the half-open bathroom door. "San? Q?"

"Hey, Britt, everything's fine. Just having a little heart-to-heart in here." Brittany's nose said differently from the sour odor hanging in the air, but she caught from Santana's tone that she shouldn't come in.

"San, I brought Quinn's bag up. I thought she might want to change out of the swimsuit now that it's cooled off outside."

_Thank God for Brittany_. Santana walked to the door and collected the bag. "Thanks, B." Santana met Brittany's concerned eyes and leaned in to kiss her. "It's OK," she said softly. "Just getting cleaned up a little bit. We'll be back in a few minutes." Santana slid back into the bathroom and couldn't resist one parting shot. "Please don't let Puck get everyone stoned and try to do something stupid." Brittany smiled. "I'll try, San. I think he's started on the 'stoned' part, and they brought some fireworks stuff from his truck" Santana rolled her eyes, and knew she could only put out one fire at a time. The more important one for right now was Quinn, not Puckerman's irresponsible use of incendiary devices.

.:.

Santana coaxed Quinn to sip some water. Quinn, seated on the closed toilet seat lid and still feeling somewhat clammy, stared up at Santana balefully through one eye.

"Go on, Lopez. Get out. I can take it from here." Quinn spoke quietly, and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees as her gaze dropped to the floor. _I told her. Ugh, now what?_

"I know you can, but I just want to make sure. I really don't want to call the life squad when your dizzy ass falls back down on the floor and sustains some kind of gruesome head injury. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of the grout between these tiles? Think of the paperwork with a 911 call, and there's no way I am calling Prude-y Judy to tell her you got hurt in my house. This is an act of pure self-preservation." Santana paused in her monologue, to give Quinn a chance to say something, say anything. _Come on, Q. you can talk to me_. "Do you want to run through the shower? Might make you feel better." She paused again, and when no words from Quinn came forth, she smirked, and let the next jab go anyway. "I know it'll make you smell better."

Quinn let the barb slide off her, as she concentrated on tamping down the sick feeling in her stomach. "Yeah, I think I will." Quinn stood, wavered a little, and put a hand to her head. "Remind me next time that drinking to excess is not a valid coping mechanism." _I'd like to blame Rachel, but it's not really her fault_.

"Q, I think it _**is**_ a valid coping mechanism, so you will probably want somebody else to be your voice of reason." Santana caught Quinn's eyes and let her open expression say that there was probably a willing candidate outside downstairs. "So," she started, and paused to make sure she had Quinn's attention,"...you want to talk to me about anything?" Santana asked the question softly, and watched the panic rise in Quinn's eyes, followed by the HBIC mask falling into place. Quinn opened her mouth to tell Santana off, but Santana beat her to it. "OK, OK." Santana let her inner mean girl say her next words. "You know what? Forget it. I didn't want to talk to you anyway. I have to go make sure Puckerman doesn't try to fire up his next blunt with a Roman effing candle and set the whole neighborhood on fire."

"Fine," Quinn bit off, with her teeth clenched against fear and nausea.

"Clean towel and washcloth in the linen closet," Santana said as she flicked a hand toward the built-in door on the far wall. "Five minutes and then I come in to check on you."

Quinn huffed and shooed Santana out. As soon as the door clicked shut Quinn turned on the water in the shower, and knelt back down in front of the toilet. Just in case.

.:.

Santana slipped down the hall into her bedroom so she could change out of the bikini. She opened some drawers and pulled out panties, old Cheerio shorts, bra and tank top. As she changed, she contemplated Quinn's dilemma and silently comiserated. It was confusing enough to be attracted to another girl, but the dwarf?... _Lord have mercy and Christ have mercy_. She felt bad for Quinn and how panicked and conflicted she must feel, but she wasn't going to force her to talk about it because that ultimately would probably compress all the confusing and scary stuff down even further. She recalled how scared, no, terrified, she had been and how hard she fought against her _feelings_ for Brittany. Quinn was nothing if not stubborn, something she shared in spades with Santana. She shook her head ruefully and reflected that not everyone could fall for the most beautiful woman, like, ever. She was head over heels for Brittany, and for now, it was enough just to let go, to feel. _Stupid feelings_. She pulled the tank down to her hips and scoffed at her own mushy feelings. Love? Well. _So be it_. She smiled at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, smoothed down her hair as best she could, and noted that her face was not framed in its usual harsh angles when she thought about Brittany. _I could learn to like this_. _As long as I still get to be my fabulous bitchy self some of the time_. She smirked at her reflection for good measure, turned the light off and opened the door.

.:.

Santana hovered outside the guest bath for about thirty seconds, long enough to hear the water shut off in the shower. She knocked and asked through the closed door, "Quinn? Everything OK?"

"Yeah, fine. I'll be down in five," came the curt and muffled reply.

Santana knew that everything was certainly not fine, but said, "Alright, see you downstairs." She headed back down and tried to make the worry about Quinn dissolve.

.:.

Blaine was mixing a weak cocktail when Santana breezed through the kitchen. "Hey," he said, smiling.

Santana gave him a "Hey" back, and inspected the liquor bottles on the counter: vodka, whiskey, triple sec, rum, gin... She opened the fridge and perused the contents. Ah, Red Bull._ Shot time!_ She yanked a shot glass off the drying rack (_thank you, whoever washed them_) and poured some vodka. "Blaine, you want a shot?" she asked.

"No, I'll stick with the vodka cran, I think."

"Suit yourself, amigo." She pounded the shot, chased with Red Bull and poured another.

"So...how's Quinn doing?"

"She'll be OK."

Blaine swirled the drink in his cup, listening to the ice cubes clack against each other. He sought out Santana's gaze again. "I know something's going on between her and Rachel," he said gently. Blaine watched Santana's expression go from relatively open to lockdown in a split second. He continued, "I don't know where they are together but she should know that she doesn't have to figure this out alone. She has friends who can help her." He looked meaningfully at Santana.

"Listen, Spongehead Squaredance, I don't care if you know the cure for baldness or can click your loafers together three times and go home, and I don't care what you THINK you know about Quinn." Santana downed the next shot and savagely slammed the glass down. Blaine didn't flinch. "Mind your own freaking business and leave Quinn the hell alone or you'll answer to me." She shoved past him and stalked outside.

Blaine rocked back on his heels. _Yep, definitely something going on there_. He smiled, in spite of Santana's vicious words. He wondered if he had Kurt's ten bucks on him.

.:.

"I mean, there's no 'work' in a firework, right?" Brittany looked around. "So why's it called that, you think?"

Puck was putting the finishing touches on an arrangement of impressive-looking huge fireworks on the patio, thankfully as far away from the house as possible. Santana wouldn't have given him that much credit, frankly. Finn hovered beside Puck.

"Who's got my lighter?" Puck looked around, patted the pockets in his shorts.

"Hold up, Puckerman." Santana glared at him from across the pool. "What the hell is all this? Are we charging admission for this fireworks spread?" Quinn's unexpected vulnerability and Blaine's freaking interrogation had set her teeth on edge and she needed an outlet.

"Santana, he was just -"

"When I need your input, puff-pastry-chest, I'll ask for it," she spat at Finn.

"Come on, Santana, don't be such a-"

"Don't say it, Suckerman," she warned. "Are you TRYING to get us busted by the cops or the fire department? Because I can tell you that all of this," she waved a hand for emphasis, "is over the top and going to get me in a hella lot of trouble."

Rachel stood up. "Santana, somebody in my neighborhood on the 4th does stuff like this all the time in the cul-de-"

Santana rounded on Rachel. "So help me, dwarf, you will shut your mealy mouth or I will shut it for you."

Kurt breathed quietly, "Oooohkay, then."

Santana glared at all of them. The patio door slid open and Blaine walked out, followed by Quinn, showered and casually dressed.

"Good, I didn't miss the fireworks," Blaine said, to break the obvious tension.

"You missed the opening act," Tina muttered. Santana glared again as Sam produced the lighter and walked over to hand it to Puck. Brittany smoothly rose to her feet and walked over to Santana to take her hand and brush a kiss over her cheek. "It'll be OK, San. He was really careful when he set them up. Come sit down with me." Santana followed but her face and posture remained defiant.

Quinn gingerly dropped into the grass between Mercedes and Tina, and didn't dare look up at anyone.

"Without further ado, ladies and gents, let me present...the first annual Puckerman fireworks display!" Puck lit the first fuse and they all craned their necks to watch the parade of colors.

.:.

Rachel looked over at Quinn while everyone else watched the fireworks. She looked ... well, lonely. Her lovely face was periodically illuminated by the greens and yellows and whites overhead, and Rachel was entranced. She shook her head, trying to banish the feelings of need and want...needing to be closer and wanting to comfort. _What an unusual, complicated day_. She drank down the last of her wine cooler and sighed softly to herself. _Quinn Fabray. Who'd have guessed?_

.:.

Quinn had successfully conquered the sick feeling in her belly, and was nursing a throbbing headache. She accepted it as penance for her foolish overindulgence, but she still had this _Rachel_ thing to cope with. She extended her hands out behind her and leaned back, to make it easier to see the pyrotechnics overhead. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling marginally better. She chanced a look over at Rachel, whose stare was fixed skyward. The odd and random lights from the fireworks highlighted her gorgeous neck and jawline, and Quinn smiled when Rachel smiled at something she saw. _There's that feeling again. What the hell?_ Quinn looked skyward, desperate for something besides Rachel to focus on but still needled by her feelings.

.:.

Rachel stood up after the last firework faded from the sky. Puck soaked up the applause from the others, and even Santana grudgingly had to admit that he hadn't messed up, despite being stoned and probably drunk. Santana walked over to Puck and said loudly,"Good job, I guess, Puckerman, for not losing a finger or an eye or anything."

"Is that an apology, Lopez?" He grinned at her, winking with his one black eye.

"It's as close as you're going to get." She smirked and ran a hand down her side to her hip, clearly laying down the double entendre.

"I'll take it." He held up his hand for a high-five. She faked hesitating for a second, huffed out a breath toward her bangs, and relented to slap his palm with hers. She smiled at him and turned around to the rest of the group. "OK, who's gonna help us clean this crap up?"

Rachel had started walking toward the house, on the hunt for either another wine cooler or a shot of something, to ease the jitters that Quinn had apparently brought with her when she sat down in the grass to watch the fireworks. She was surprised when Quinn stopped her.

"Rach?" She held up a hand. "Help me up, will you?"

Blaine elbowed Kurt. "Look," he whispered.

"Uh, sure." Rachel extended a hand and Quinn's slipped into hers effortlessly. Rachel tugged lightly when Quinn pushed off the ground, and Quinn gained her feet just in front of Rachel, careful not to let any other part of them touch.

"Thanks." Quinn lightly tugged her hand out of Rachel's, irritated that it still tingled from where Rachel's skin had met hers. "I'm heading in for some water. Can I get you anything?" Picture-perfect-polite.

"I'm headed in to use the restroom," Rachel said, feeling the air between them buzz with anticipation and searching Quinn's blank face for something. She frowned, and turned to resume her walk toward the house. Quinn followed. An awkward silence stretched between them, broken only when Rachel walked out of the kitchen and Quinn was left alone.

.:.

Quinn caught a whiff of the melange of booze in half-consumed bottles on the island in the kitchen and she felt a little nauseated again. She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, and stayed away from the alcohol. She relaxed against the island and sipped in relative peace, glad that the water was settling her stomach somewhat.

Rachel walked back through the kitchen but stopped long enough to pick up a fresh wine cooler. She popped the lid off with the bottle opener and tossed it into the trash, only then noticing Quinn leaning against the counter.

"Quinn?"

"Yes, Rachel?"

"In light of ... the circumstances, are you able to drive me home later tonight?"

Quinn considered, and chose the easier of the two possible interpretations of **circumstances**. "If we hang out a little longer I should be fine to drive but I'm thinking about asking Santana if I can just crash here instead." Quinn took a couple of steps closer. "There's a bunch of bedrooms in this princess' palace...would you mind staying overnight? In separate rooms, I mean," she stammered. _Smoooooth, Fabray_.

"I'd have to let my dads know relatively soon what the plan is, but I'm fine with sleeping over. In separate bedrooms," she added, with a trace of mockery.

Quinn registered Rachel's tone and thought she'd never heard Rachel speak like that. She quirked both eyebrows. "OK, I'll go see if there's room at the inn for two travelers tonight." Quinn swept out of the kitchen.

.:.

Everyone outside pitched in to help pick up the remnants of the spent fireworks.

"So, Puckerman, Zizes gonna let you get up on that tonight?" Santana noted with some disdain a scorch mark on the grass where a shell had landed and apparently fizzled out.

Puck stood up and cast a glance toward Lauren. "Hells, yeah. Well, I mean I think so. I hope so. Since you and blondie turned me down and all..." He was ready to duck and cover, but Santana didn't make a move toward him. Instead, she was looking over at Brittany with an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face.

Puck faux-coughed into his hand with a word that sounded suspiciously like, "whipped."

She turned her head back toward Puck and smirked. "I know I'm getting some of that later tonight. You're not even sure if you're tapping Zizes or your right hand. Again."

Puck looked down, shook his head, and looked back at Santana. "You know, I really am happy for you. You guys are just...I don't know, _right_ together. But you know that offer for the three-"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Puck."

Puck picked up the last piece of spent fireworks casing and tossed it expertly into the trash can. "You never let me have any fun." He pouted, and Santana playfully ruffled his mohawk.

"Come on, let's go sit and get our smoke on. You'd better have saved me some," she said with a sideways glance.

.:.

Mike, Tina, Sam and Mercedes said their goodbyes to everyone and headed out because they had to be up early the next morning. Artie and Finn followed soon thereafter, but Rachel suspected it had more to do with the beer being gone than actually wanting to leave.

She watched Quinn approach Santana, who appeared not to be terribly happy for having missed out on the marijuana smoking. Quinn leaned down to whisper in Santana's ear, and Rachel watched the play of facial expressions over Santana's features. Surprise, amusement, anger, eye roll, pout, eye narrowing, agreement. In that order, though Rachel didn't hear what words they spoke. Rachel smothered a smile and tipped her bottle back against her lips. She pulled her phone out of her shorts pocket and prepared the text to send to her dads.

Quinn dropped heavily into the seat next to Rachel's. "We're good for the sleepover."

"You didn't have to promise her an organ donation or anything, did you?" Rachel asked in jest.

"She deliberately asked for my firstborn," Quinn quipped, "but it's a little late for that." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, suffering under the pulsing headache.

Rachel wasn't sure what to say to that, so she said nothing and sent the text to her dads. She put her phone back in her pocket, and stood up. "I'm going to go see what's up with Kurt and Blaine."

Quinn frowned. "You guys already talked up Julliard and New York City and Broadway. What's left?"

_People who don't make me feel like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs_. "Civil conversation." Rachel walked away.

Quinn groaned and laid an arm over her eyes. Could anything go freaking right today?

"Hey, Q, how're you feeling?" Brittany picked up Rachel's vacated chair and turned it around so she was facing Quinn head-on.

"I've been better, Brittany," Quinn muttered, and set her arm down.

"When Santana has too much to drink she gets a little cranky."

_Cranky, my ass. She yells and cries a lot and entertains weird delusions_. "I know." Quinn smiled at that. How very, well, _Brittany_, to see the best in people.

"She's worried about you, you know." Brittany knew because she knew Santana, not because of anything Santana had said to her.

"Why would she be worried about me?"

"Come on, Q, she and I notice stuff, and we had that talk in the kitchen today." Brittany sought out her eyes. "She won't say so to your face but she's worried about how you'll handle stuff." She paused. "You should talk to Rachel."

Quinn sat up straighter in the chair. "Brittany, I appreciate the thought, but I don't really think -"

"Just think it over, Q. You won't feel better in here," Brittany tapped her own chest, "until you do something about this." Quinn looked at her, hard. "Trust me." Brittany said, before she stretched and yawned, which signaled that the conversation topic was now closed. "Long day. It's gotta be bedtime soon, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. As soon as your girlfriend explains to Puck & company that they're cockblocking. Well, is it really cockblocking if there's no cock involved?" Quinn snickered at her own joke, realizing how out of sorts she was from using that word. "Well, I think I've had enough for one day. I'm going inside and occupying the first vacant bedroom I find. 'Night, Britt. Thanks for letting Rachel and me stay over." Brittany smiled as Quinn walked toward the house, hearing how easily the coupling of Rachel's name with "me" had fallen off Quinn's tongue. She couldn't wait to double-date with them.

.:.

Santana finally bundled the last of her guests out the front door and into vehicles, save Rachel and Quinn. Brittany had said that Quinn went on the hunt for her own bedroom, so whatever. Quinn knew enough about the Lopez home to figure that part out. They'd find her tomorrow sometime when she wandered out. That meant Santana had to find a space for Berry and then it was Sweet Lady Lovin' time. _Finally_. Santana locked the front door, and the back door. Rachel was waiting in the kitchen. "Alright, Berry, come with me. We'll get you bedded down for the night and you and Q can make your way home tomorrow. You can tell your friend, note I used the singular, about your experience with staying overnight in Lima Heights Adjacent." Santana smirked.

They walked up the staircase and Santana opened the door to the guest room across the hall from the guest bath. "This should work, Berry. Bed, light, tv, etc. Towels are in the bathroom in the linen closet. Need anything else? And keep in mind you're the last thing standing between me and gettin' my freak on with Brittany." Santana glowered.

"Um ... do you have any sleep aids in the house? I usually take an Ambien."

"Ugh, dwarf, I should have known better than to ask. Let me check." Santana walked into the guest bath, opened the medicine chest and found a bottle of generic Ambien prescribed for her brother before he went away to college in the winter. "Here," she said, handing over the bottle. "Don't OD, bait girl. Hope you're a sound sleeper. Britt is NOT quiet." Santana smirked and walked down the hall to her own bedroom. Rachel leaned against the doorway of the bathroom for a moment, and the thought occurred to her that if she were having great sex regularly she might brag too. She blushed, then, because her first thought was of Quinn. She went into the bathroom and quietly closed the door.

.:.

A/N: good stuff in Chapter 10, underway.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine, and I do take some liberties with canon. Let it be known that in my universe, Brittana (or "Santittany," as I prefer) are OTP. No other permutations are permitted.

Achtung: coarse language and graphic sexual situations ahead. You have been warned.

A/N: Approaching 100 follows/favorites. Thanks. For those who waited so patiently for the "M"ature concepts, they appear below.

Chapter 10

.:.

"Britt?" Santana called out as she entered her bedroom and made sure the door was securely locked behind her. _No need for Manhands or Q to wander in here for a late-night talk or anything_.

The lights were off, save a candle on the nightstand casting a warm glow. The bed was turned down. The shower in the en-suite bath was running, and as her eyes adjusted to the near-dark, she saw Brittany's sarong, bikini top, and bikini bottom on the floor leading to the bathroom door. She let a smirk slink across her face. _Oh yeah, sexy times, here we come_. She stripped off her tank and started for the bathroom, peeling off everything else as she went.

Brittany was just stepping out of the shower. _Damn, missed her. Shower sex is so hot_.

"Hey, San." Brittany reached for a towel.

Santana put up a hand to stop her progress. "B, I've been waiting, like, all day for this," she whined. She let her eyes roam hungrily over a very naked and very wet Brittany and reached out to grip one of Brittany's hips. Santana stepped closer and felt her compressed libido erupt.

"Me too, San." Brittany smiled and met Santana's lips halfway. Santana gasped at the shock of their skin meeting without barriers and wrapped her arms around Brittany's back. She pulled back and panted, "God, B, you feel so good..." She trailed her tongue along Brittany's jaw and tasted the water from the shower. "I don't think I can wait." She slid her hands down and massaged Brittany's ass, angling her hips to push-walk Brittany backward to the vanity. "B?" She asked softly, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Brittany's collarbone.

Brittany wrestled with her own physical arousal, hammering relentlessly through her. It all felt so good. It had been a really long time, but... "San..." she ground out. Santana felt Brittany's hands stop hers.

Santana stopped, and peeled her upper body away from Brittany's as realization dawned. "Let me guess," she started softly. "Feelings, right?" She immediately frowned and felt bad for jumping on Brittany like some pervy predator. _I used to have game_. Brittany nodded, and brushed a thumb over Santana's cheek.

"We've waited this long, San. I want all of you, in your bed, and to give you all of me. Knowing we don't have to hurry and knowing that we have just each other." Brittany leaned down, then, and whispered against Santana's lips, "It's going to be so much better. You'll see."

Sometimes Santana hated it when Brittany was right, and envied her faith to know when things would work. Santana pouted, but grudgingly agreed. "It'd better be," she said with a mock frown and a tapping finger to Brittany's chin. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't get started without me, Britt," she teased as she stepped into the shower.

"How would I do that?" Brittany asked softly and smiled knowingly at her own reflection. _We're starting together, San_.

.:.

Santana finished up and shut off the water. After fighting her admittedly selfish interest in the world's fastest shower, she opted to roll with Brittany's intent, and took the time to shampoo the chlorine stink out of her hair too, and it held up pretty well. _The weave might not be a total loss_.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off. _Guess I should blow-dry, too_, she thought as she saw the hair dryer Brittany had left out for her. She rolled her eyes and got to work.

.:.

Santana stretched as she contemplated her reflection one more time. _Smokin'_. She turned off the light and turned to walk into her bedroom, naked. She would have died before she admitted it, but she was a little nervous, like it was the first time with Brittany all over again. _Well, it kindof is_. She shook her head and looked up.

_Oh. My. God_. Brittany was sitting cross-legged on the bed, frowning at her cell phone. Her hair was swept over one shoulder and Santana stopped at the edge of the bed, transfixed at the sight of her girl, gilded in candlelight and nothing else. The dark walls seemed to swallow up everything except Brittany. "B?"

Brittany looked up, smiled, and set her phone down on the nightstand. She patted the space next to her. "Come to bed, honey."

Santana awkwardly scrambled into the bed, faced Brittany, and folded her legs beneath her. She tucked her hair behind her ear on one side. _Definitely nervous_. They usually did this in the dark. She met Brittany's eyes, and noted her bemused expression.

"Feelings really throw you off, don't they, San?"

"Maybe..." Santana's voice trailed off. "I don't know..." _Some badass I am_.

"You know how. I've seen them in your eyes. Don't be afraid of them." Brittany leaned forward and placed the softest kiss on Santana's lips. Santana whimpered, and lifted her hands up. She wanted her fingers on Brittany somewhere, hell, just about anywhere would work. She was starving.

Brittany reached her hands toward Santana. The second Santana felt Brittany's hands on her skin, just resting on her thighs, her eyes flew open. "God, Britt, touch me," Santana begged. "I'm going to fall apart if you don't."

Brittany understood, and made a decision. "It's OK, San," she soothed. "I've got you." Brittany smoothly shifted her legs so that she could gently push Santana flat on her back. Santana struggled to her elbows, and Brittany said only, "Let me." Santana surrendered, and as she laid back down she watched Brittany lay her body next to her own.

Brittany propped up her head on one hand, and ran the warm palm of her other hand in circles over Santana's stomach, watching how her abs shifted and rippled in response and hearing Santana's uneven breathing. She smiled, loving the difference in their skin tones, cream on caramel, and leaned down to kiss her way slowly down Santana's neck to her collarbone, her shoulder. Santana groaned when she felt the warm, soft weight of Brittany's breast grazing her torso, her silky hair tickling slightly where it passed over her skin.

Brittany trailed her fingers down Santana's abs, across her hip, and down her thigh, enjoying the sensation of feeling Santana's hips try to follow her touch. _That's it, baby. Let me_. She scraped her nails back up the way her fingers had come, and brought her hand up to cup a breast. She kissed down Santana's chest to its twin, and pulled a delectable dark nipple into her mouth. _You didn't need the boob job, San. You were already...perfect_. While she worked one nipple with her lips and tongue, her thumb stroked the other to stiff attention. Brittany shifted her body directly over Santana's, tangling their legs together with one of Brittany's resting between Santana's. She sought out Santana's eyes, and the raw need she saw there matched what she felt on her thigh.

Brittany leaned down to kiss the other side of Santana's neck, nipping lightly at her skin, and ran her hand down Santana's side to rest on her hip. She used her thumb to massage the hidden erogenous zone she knew was there, the spot that made Santana short-circuit. Santana fisted a hand in Brittany's hair and forced her head back up to her mouth. "Kiss me, dammit," she demanded, and lifted her head up to meet Brittany's mouth.

Brittany was consumed momentarily by Santana's overwhelming need and passion. She eagerly met Santana's tongue stroke for stroke, her own arousal skyrocketing through her entire body and coalescing deep in her belly. She felt Santana's hips rhythmically rolling against her slick thigh, and when she realized what was happening, she shifted her weight to her elbows and pulled her hips, and legs, up and away.

"What the hell, B?" Santana growled, more desperately turned on than truly angry. "I'm so close."

Brittany pinned her with a look. "I know. I want to try something..." She closed her eyes, gathered herself. She opened her eyes and looked into Santana's. When she spoke, her voice had dropped a register. "I want to taste you."

Santana audibly gulped. They'd had sex a hundred times or more, but Santana had never let Brittany do, well, _that_, despite her repeated requests, hints, and tentative attempts. And Santana had been afraid to try it on Brittany, because that was definitely outside her definition of FWBs. Even BFF FWBs. "Britt -"

"I'm not taking no for an answer, San," she said softly but firmly, before Santana could speak any of the dozen-plus excuses she had used in the past. She saw the insecurity looming in Santana's eyes, the discomfort with uncharted territory. "Let me. Please?"

Santana's eyes fluttered closed, and she felt the throbbing ache and unbelievable wetness between her legs, the level of arousal that only Brittany had ever stirred in her. She opened her eyes and searched Brittany's face, all hope and desire and love. Santana let herself go with a slow nod. "OK."

When Brittany leaned in to kiss Santana soundly, she dragged her breasts across Santana's and felt her hissed intake of breath as their erect nipples crossed. "Are you trying to kill me, B?"

Brittany chuckled. "No, San, just making up for lost time." Brittany trailed her tongue down Santana's throat and leisurely kissed her way down her chest, then lower, past her navel. She caught the fragrance of Santana's arousal then, all around, and she struggled herself not to hurry. She had wanted Santana like this for so long, but knew there was only one first time. She ran her nose and lips softly through the top fringe of hair at the apex of Santana's thighs, and breathed out against her skin, "God, you smell so good, San."

When Santana felt Brittany's words moving across her skin, so close to where she needed Brittany's touch, it was all she could do not to beg. She was afraid she wouldn't last long once Brittany got going.

Brittany raked her nails down the insides of Santana's thighs, surprising Santana with another rush of arousal, and causing her legs involuntarily to part wider. Brittany smiled. _That's it. Let me_.

Santana felt Brittany's hair tickling lower on her abdomen. She pushed herself up on her elbows again, because she had to be sure. "B, are you sure you're OK with this?"

Brittany's blue eyes glittered darkly in the candlelight with unquenchable desire when she looked back up at Santana, and any lingering reservations Santana had evaporated. "More than sure, San," she whispered. Santana closed her eyes and braced herself as Brittany leaned in for the first taste.

.:.

_Oh. My. God_. Is this really happening? Santana let her head fall back, arched her back and felt her hips involuntarily thrusting toward Brittany's mouth. She moaned Brittany's name, because she didn't have the words for how it felt, the sensation of Brittany's clever tongue tasting and teasing. Santana undulated her whole body in pure pleasure, and stretched her arms over her head, opening her body to Brittany's touch as much as she possibly could. She sighed, equal parts mindless pleasure and surrender. _Take it all, B. It's always been yours anyway_.

.:.

Brittany fell in love all over again. She experimentally ran her tongue up the length of Santana's sex, and back down. She breathed in the heady fragrance, savored the taste in her mouth. _San, why didn't you let me do this before?_ Brittany felt Santana's body shifting, rolling lightly, and voluntarily letting go. She knew then that Santana was ready to accept what she wanted to give her. Brittany pressed closer and repeatedly teased her tongue up and down the soaked, sensitive skin, doing an admirable job of keeping up with Santana's writhing hips. Brittany reached one arm up around Santana's hips and placed her palm low on Santana's belly, to calm and to help hold her in place a little bit.

"Britt..."

Brittany didn't lift her head or cease her oral efforts, opting instead to voice, "Hmmm?" against Santana's swollen sex.

_God, she's teasing me now_. "Britt, I need-"

Brittany did stop, then, and Santana whimpered at the loss of contact. "San, I've waited a long time for this too. Let me." Brittany leaned in and sealed her lips around Santana's clit, licked once, twice. Santana's body jerked. Brittany pulled away just enough to ask quietly, "OK?"

Even the little puffs of air from Brittany's words felt seismic. "B, I won't last much longer..."

"I know, San. It's OK. I've got you." Brittany shifted so her hands each held one of Santana's hips, and she languidly slid her tongue down to Santana's opening before coming back up to focus on her clit. She knew San was close, so very close, to the edge, and she wanted to prolong her own pleasure of discovery, but not deny Santana the release she so desperately needed.

Brittany focused her attention on helping Santana finish, and consoled herself with knowing that there would be time for more exploration later. She whipped her tongue across Santana's clit, feeling the tension build through her body until Santana was fluidly rolling her hips and half-sobbing Brittany's name. Her body snapped tight as a bowstring, and Brittany happily pulled Santana over the line into oblivion.

.:.

Rachel was dreaming. Ambien did that to her sometimes, gave her odd dreams she didn't always remember the morning after.

**She was wearing her prom dress, checking her reflection in the mirror. "Most girls would be upset about getting slapped in the face, but I happen to appreciate the drama of it." She reached for a paper towel.**

**Quinn leaned against the next sink. "I know you think it's hard to be you, Rachel, but at least you don't have to be terrified all of the time."**

**Rachel paused, and asked quietly, "What are you so scared of?" **_**The most popular girl in school is SCARED?**_** She offered Quinn a paper towel to dab at her tears.**

**"The future. When all this is gone."**

**"Look, you have nothing to be scared of. You're a very pretty girl, Quinn. You're the prettiest girl I've met, but ... you're a lot more than that." Rachel looked up at Quinn, paper towel in hand, and quietly asked permission to help dab away the running mascara. She stepped closer, pressed the folded towel carefully under Quinn's left eye, then her right.**

**"All set, Miss Fabray." She smiled up at Quinn, who even after shedding tears was still the prettiest girl she'd met. Quinn smiled back, lightly. Their silence built up a charge like static electricity, and Rachel wanted nothing more than to stand up on her tiptoes, lean forward, and kiss Quinn.**

**So she did. Her arms slid around Quinn's waist, and the paper towel fell to the floor, eminently forgotten. She felt Quinn reach up to take her hair down, and run her fingers through it slowly. Their tongues tangled, twisted. Rachel felt her heart rate increase, and desire lancing through her belly at the feeling of Quinn's fingers on her scalp.**

**Rachel shifted, trying to get closer. She couldn't taste Quinn or smell her very well, and she wanted more.**

She awoke with a start, gasping. She sat up in bed and knew a moment's panic before she realized that she was safe, in a guest room at Santana's, and also very much alone in a small portion of a large bed. She thought a drink of water might calm her down and slow her heartbeat down enough to get back to sleep. _Is that what I wanted from Quinn all along?_ She shook her head, tossed back the covers on the half of the bed she had slept in, and padded toward the bathroom for some water.

.:.

Santana came back down slowly, amazed to discover that she was crying. _Oh, God. Really?_ She threw an arm over her eyes and concentrated on stopping the flow of tears. _Why the hell am I crying?_ "Britt?"

After the storm quieted, Brittany had delicately dabbed Santana off her face using a corner of the flat sheet, and had rested her head on Santana's abs. She noted that Santana's breathing was still irregular, and then she heard Santana say her name.

"San?" Brittany scrambled up to see Santana's face, and wiped away her tears with her thumbs. "Did I hurt you? What's wrong, baby?"

Santana shook her head, and spoke softly. "No, B, you didn't hurt me." She brought her hand up to brush Brittany's hair back, and pull her in for a very soft, lingering kiss. Santana felt calm returning, and took a stabilizing breath. "It was just ... really intense."

Brittany frowned. "Like good intense, or bad intense?" Brittany did not want their new first time to carry bad memories. Santana met Brittany's gaze baldly, and let the vulnerability shine through.

"Good, Britt. Like, um, the best ever." She blushed, then, and gave a little laugh, rolling her eyes away and back. "You didn't tell me that 'with feelings' would make me cry." She smiled, the full-watt smile, and it transformed her face.

Brittany exhaled in relief. "Told you, San, that it would be better." She smiled, and Santana was captured again. _Thank God she waited for me_.

"Hmmm, so you did," Santana said, and reached for Brittany again. She rolled them over, nestled her hips into Brittany's, and kissed Brittany deeply, longingly. She smelled and tasted herself on Brittany's face. "Hmm. That's not what I expected, um, _that_ to taste like," she said, a little embarrassed.

Brittany smiled. "You taste awesome, San." Brittany reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Santana's ear, and said, "I've really wanted to do that for a long time, like since the first time we were together."

Santana grinned. _My girlfriend just ate my pussy_. "I should have let you. I'm not sure where you learned to do that but ... wow. Just...wow." Santana's clit twitched just at the remembering, and she realized that anytime Britt wanted to do it again, she'd let her. _Hmph, more like I'd sit up and beg for it_.

"San, I hate to sound like that broken record thing, but-"

"Feelings," Santana sighed. "Am I right? That's what made it so good?"

"Yeah," Brittany said, her gaze falling to Santana's mouth.

Santana smirked, and her fingers began wandering over Brittany's body. She nibbled at Brittany's chin and jaw, tasted more of herself, and wondered what Brittany tasted like down there. _The night is still young_.

.:.

Quinn groaned and shifted again, trying to get comfortable. _Did they bring this bed over from Spain after the Inquisition?_ She gave up and rolled to her feet. There were more rooms in this godforsaken McMansion and the beds had to be more comfortable. She grumbled to herself and opened the door. All was quiet, well, except for some weird sounds coming from down the hall. _S and B are in there doing whatever it is they do together_. _Hmm, those vocals have to be Brittany_. She shook her head ruefully and made a note to tease Santana about it tomorrow. She stopped in the guest bath to use the facility and to drink some more water, and saw the door across the hall. _Why not? Can't be any worse than that torture chamber bed_. She opened the door, saw the bed in the dark. She walked over, gently pulled the covers down on one side of the bed, and gratefully sank into significantly more comfort than she had left. She was asleep in less than 5 minutes.

.:.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine, and I do take some liberties with canon.

Achtung: Mature concepts below.

A/N: 100 reviews. Many thanks. Enjoy.

Chapter 11

.:.

_God, it's been a long time_. Santana was content for a moment just to let her fingertips ghost along Brittany's skin, to take her time reacquainting herself with what she'd missed during that horrible drought of separation. _Not gonna think about that, not now_. She sighed, feeling suffused with ... happiness? She frowned inwardly. _Is that what this is_? She kissed down Brittany's throat, seeking out the hollows with her tongue, tasting lightly salty sweat and reveling in the smell of Brittany's skin and hair.

"B?"

"Hmmm?"

"I missed this," Santana said softly against Brittany's collarbone. "I missed _you_. Us."

Brittany smiled. "Me too, San." Brittany's eyes were closed, the better to let her body absorb the wonderful sensations that Santana's hands and mouth were creating.

Santana dragged her body down a little more, so her mouth was closer to Brittany's breasts. Brittany spread her legs and locked them around Santana's waist. "Someone's excited," Santana purred in a low, raspy voice as she registered the wet heat radiating from Brittany's core. Santana twisted her lower body and rubbed her hip just enough to tease Brittany with a little friction, and was rewarded when Brittany's hips canted upward. She leaned down to nuzzle one breast, feeling her own arousal flicker as Brittany whimpered softly. She opened her mouth and lightly ran her tongue around the edges of a nipple.

Brittany put her hands on the back of Santana's head and pulled, trying to force Santana to apply more pressure, more attention to her nipple.

"Nu-unh, Britt," Santana whispered against the underside of Brittany's breast. "It's my turn." Santana smirked, but it faded quickly as she lost herself again in the feel, the smell, the taste of Brittany's body. She kissed her way across Brittany's chest and fully took the other nipple into her mouth, suckling and flicking her tongue over it. _I need this, as much as she does_. Brittany's legs around her tightened, and Santana caught the nipple in her teeth and bit down, a little roughly.

Brittany raked her nails down Santana's back. The teeth clamping on her nipple had shot more arousal straight to her groin, and she pushed her center harder into Santana. "San," she breathed, "I need you."

Santana was undone by the raw emotion in Brittany's voice, and relented. "I know, baby." Santana eased her left hand between their bodies, down to Brittany's center, and slid her fingers through the welcoming wet. She teased Brittany's opening and pressed her palm against Brittany's erect clit. Brittany shuddered and instinctively tightened her legs around Santana again, which effectively trapped Santana's hand. "B, can you put your legs down for me?" Santana stilled her hand. "I kinda need some room to work here." She reached up to kiss the underside of Brittany's jaw.

Brittany obediently flattened her legs against the bed. Santana withdrew her hand, which earned a slight pout and whimper from Brittany, and placed her damp left hand on Brittany's chest for balance as she moved to sit astride Brittany's hips. Brittany looked up at her expectantly. Santana leaned forward and braced her weight on her right hand beside Brittany's shoulder. Santana's curiosity got the better of her, and she held Brittany's eyes as she lifted her sex-slicked fingers to her mouth. She slowly licked one, as she watched Brittany's eyes blaze. She sucked a whole finger into her mouth, then two, craving more of the taste. She blinked slowly and placed her left hand to the side of Brittany's other shoulder, leaning down until just a fraction of an inch separated their mouths. "You...taste...incredible." She dropped her head the last bit of distance and pressed her open mouth to Brittany's, seeking to share the tangy flavor still on her tongue.

Brittany hummed her approval and trailed her fingertips down Santana's back, letting her palms come to rest on her hips. "You know there's more where that came from, San," she teased, with a smile. She met Santana's eerily open gaze and was overwhelmed by the depth of emotion she saw, the emotion San would never admit to feeling when they had been together like this before. She fully expected a sarcastic quip or a faux-ghetto proclamation.

Santana watched her for one, two, three heartbeats. "I love you, B," she whispered, and brushed a light kiss across the tip of her nose. Then she was gone, softly kissing her way down the center of Brittany's body.

.:.

Rachel surfaced enough from slumber to realize that she was cold. She frowned, and sensed heat and a tantalizingly familiar scent coming from not far away. She instinctively moved toward the warmth without fully waking, wrapped herself around it softly and dropped back off to sleep, with a soft, content smile playing lightly around her lips.

.:.

Quinn dreamed. Sometimes they weren't nice dreams, and this night was a not-nice-dream night. She sometimes dreamed of Finn, and Puck, and her dad, and Beth, everyone she cared about leaving her behind. She dreamed of being in the hotel room in New York with Brittany and Santana, and begging for someone to love her. She hated the dreams for making her feel so damned vulnerable, especially when she woke up the morning after with a damp pillow because she'd cried while she was sleeping.

Tonight she dreamed that she was running full-tilt down the hallway at school, not at all sure if she was running from something or toward something, but she couldn't stay still. In her dream she felt something, someone, gently hug her from behind, and then she was falling but it was okay because she felt safe and loved and whole. She didn't fully grasp that someone warm and caring had spooned her in bed, but it soothed her body and dreaming mind. She settled, then, and slid into blissfully dreamless sleep.

.:.

Brittany was on slow burn. Santana had kissed her way down all the way to Brittany's center, then sat up and bent Brittany's legs at the knees, effectively propping them up and framing Brittany's glistening sex. _I want to see you_. She looked her fill at Brittany's most intimate place, with a hand on each of her knees, and looked up at Brittany's face, eyes gleaming intimately with unparalleled desire. "You're so beautiful, Britt."

Brittany looked back. She knew she'd never get tired of seeing this Santana, the one with feelings, even if she didn't show her heart to anyone else. "Show me, San," she challenged, softly.

Santana did smirk, then, and ran the pads of her fingers down the insides of Brittany's thighs toward her center. She teasingly trailed her fingertips through the damp patch of dark blonde hair, and watched Brittany's face as her eyes closed and she frowned in concentration. Santana rolled smoothly to her belly and breathed in Brittany's scent before she nuzzled into her slit, coating her face with Brittany's essence. _Could def get used to this_. Her tongue sought out Brittany's opening, and she experimentally thrust in. Brittany's hips jerked in response, and her hand threaded through Santana's hair tightly. Santana smiled, and ran her tongue up to Brittany's clit. She teased with her lips and tongue, and easily kept pace with the rhythm Brittany's hips were setting. She lightly grazed her teeth over her clit.

"Sannnn," Brittany moaned as her hips froze on the upswing.

Santana abruptly pulled her head back and looked up at Brittany. "I'm sorry, B, I didn't mean to hurt-"

Brittany propped herself up on one elbow and reached to cup Santana's cheek with the other hand. "It didn't hurt, San." Brittany smiled lopsidedly. "It all feels pretty fucking fantastic."

Santana smirked and pulled her face away playfully. "Then lets go of me, 'cause I'm totally mackin' on your pussy and I don'ts like being interrupted." She raised one eyebrow knowingly and Brittany grinned back before she felt Santana's mouth on her again. She fell back against the pillows.

Santana was enjoying feasting on Brittany, but she knew that her girl didn't want to wait much longer. She brought her left hand up to Brittany's center, and kept suckling at her clit while she teased Brittany's opening with a finger. Trusting Brittany to stop her if this wasn't a good idea, she slid her finger in and curled it forward a little. She felt Brittany clench around her in response, and heard a breathy moan. _Game. On_. Santana knew from experience that Brittany could take another finger or two, so she pulled out and slowly slid in two fingers, curling again. Brittany moaned again, and her hips rose and fell slowly as Santana set a rhythm with her fingers inside and her tongue out.

.:.

Rachel frowned and surfaced. What is that noise? She didn't want to wake fully enought to figure it out. She was warm and comfortable and _oh my word spooning someone_. The other person had laced their fingers together as they'd slept, and Rachel yanked away and sprang out of the bed as if there were a venomous pit viper in it.

Quinn woke with a start in the dark. "Who's there?"

Rachel couldn't believe it. "Quinn?" she confirmed.

"Rachel?" _Great, just great. What the hell, I was holding her hand in my sleep? To my chest?_

Rachel turned on the bedside lamp. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

Quinn sat up and squinted at her. "I didn't know you were in here."

Rachel backed up two more steps and sat in the overstuffed armchair in the room. "That's plausible enough, I imagine. I thought you were sleeping somewhere else."

"The bed was hideously uncomfortable. I couldn't fall asleep." Quinn drew her knees up to her chest. "You were here first, so I'll go grab the couch downstairs."

"No need, Quinn. I'm awake and won't be able to go back to sleep now, after all this adrenaline. You stay here and I'll go downstairs."

"No, it's OK. I might not sleep again either." Quinn paused. "What _is_ that noise?"

They both clearly heard a rhythmic thumping and the sound of a person almost sobbing. They both realized what it was at the same time, and their eyes met before they both dissolved into a shared giggle.

"Santana warned me that Brittany wasn't quiet, but I didn't think she was that serious." Rachel hoped Quinn couldn't see her blushing in the low light.

Quinn shook her head in disbelief. "I guess coming-out sex ranks up there with make-up sex. Or at least it sounds like it does."

They sat in relative silence for a few more seconds. "They have great stamina," Rachel observed quietly, as the thumping picked up in tempo and the vocalizations got louder.

"It's the Cheerios conditioning." Quinn said absently, and stretched. "What time is it, anyway?"

Rachel checked her cell phone, on the nightstand. "It's about 2:00." She stifled a yawn. _Maybe I can go back to sleep_.

Quinn groaned and flopped back down. "I'm going to be a zombie at work tomorrow."

Rachel leaned forward to turn off the lamp and picked up her phone. She stood up. "It's still early enough to try to grab some more sleep, Quinn." Rachel padded toward the door, and shook her head. The keening wails had reached a fever pitch. _Must be working on the best orgasm in this hemisphere_. She was surprised to find she was a little jealous.

Quinn knew the script of sleeping alone, and it didn't end well. It played out every night in her bedroom at home. Sleep was elusive, and more often than not, marred by bad dreams. "Rachel ... wait."

Rachel's hand was on the door. "No worries, Quinn. In a minute it'll be like I was never here. I can't help you with the noise from down the hall but it sounds as if they're close to, um ... finishing."

"No..." Quinn shifted her legs to the side of the bed and dangled her feet toward the floor before she stood up. "This is a pretty big bed. There's no reason we can't both stay here."

Rachel turned around and leaned her back against the closed door. "In light of the incident in the kitchen earlier today, I don't think that is a good idea."

Quinn huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Rachel, it was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. We are both mature enough to chalk it up to tequila and move on." _Liar_.

Rachel, usually even-tempered, found her patience with Quinn's reaction fraying. "A mistake? It wasn't a mistake, Quinn. You enjoyed it, and it wasn't just tequila," Rachel hissed. "You're trying to rationalize away staring at me all day, kissing me, and enjoying being cuddled up against me in the same bed. Well I, for one, am not going to let you off the hook that easily." She surprised herself by stalking through the dark to Quinn, not stopping until she was close enough to feel Quinn's body heat. "Tell me you don't want to kiss me again, right now."

Quinn was dumbfounded. Rachel was close enough to smell, feel and taste if she leaned forward just a little bit. _No. No, I am not doing this. It'll pass._ She closed her eyes to make the untruth easier to deliver. "I don't want to kiss you right now," she forced out in a broken whisper.

Rachel leaned the tiniest bit closer. "I don't believe you, Fabray." Her breath ghosted over Quinn's face, and it was only sheer force of will that kept Quinn rooted to the spot and her hands at her sides. "Since you don't want to, it won't matter then if I do this," Rachel whispered, and leaned up to press her slightly open mouth against Quinn's.

_Ffffuck, was so not counting on this_. Quinn's body responded before her brain caught up. Rachel's hands were on her shoulders again, holding her still, and Rachel's tongue was deliciously gliding along her own traitorously complicit tongue before Quinn had enough presence of mind to reach up and push Rachel away. "What the hell, Rachel?" she demanded, with an extra push of indignant shock.

Rachel deliberately reached up to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, and Quinn was taken aback by the implicit and utter contempt. _Rachel? Really?_

"At least I'm honest about it, which is more than I can say for you. Don't worry about driving me home tomorrow. I'll ask one of my dads to pick me up in the morning, early. Sweet dreams, Quinn," she said softly, coldly. Rachel turned and was out of the room before Quinn could move again.

Quinn pressed shaking fingers to her lips, and before she could think about it any further, followed Rachel out the door.

.:.

Santana knew Brittany was close. She was moaning as her pleasure built to the peak. _Loud, just the way I like it_. She continued stroking with her fingers, easily keeping up with Brittany's increasing rhythm.

"Saaann..." Brittany's beathing was labored and Santana sensed muscle tension building all over. She made a quick decision, and replaced her mouth with her thumb near Brittany's clit. _I want to watch her come_. She lost Brittany's rhythm for a moment while she climbed back up Brittany's body, now coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Brittany opened her eyes, gaze unfocused, and Santana grinned somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry, B. I, er ... I want to watch you when you, you know..."

Brittany focused on Santana for a brief moment and panted out, "I'm so close, San." Santana's fingers fell back into the strong leading rhythm Brittany set, and she situated her hips behind her left hand to piston her fingers deeper. After another moment, she felt Brittany's walls starting to clench around her fingers, and her whole body arched as the screams of ecstasy tore from her throat. Santana kept her fingers moving, drawing out Brittany's pleasure. She watched reverently as Brittany came undone, Santana's name on her lips.

.:.

_How does she make me so __**angry**__?_ Rachel stalked downstairs in the dark, and realized abruptly that she hadn't the slightest idea what the floorplan of the house was besides the places she'd already been. She opted for the solarium, hoping that she would find some of the peace that Brittany obviously did. She opened the door and walked over to one of the glass panes, to see if there were any stars out. Looking at the stars always soothed her soul, dating back to when she was a toddler and her dads would sing lullabyes about the moon and the stars. She exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension leave her body. Her shoulders slumped a bit and she rested her forehead against the cool glass as the weak ambient light streamed in around her.

She didn't hear Quinn walk into the room. Quinn stubbed her toe on a low table leg, and muffled her curse, though the "shit!" was still audible in the deep quiet. Rachel turned around.

"Are you following me?"

Quinn picked up her foot and rubbed the sore toe. "No, but I thought we should ... talk." _Talk? Me?_

"I'm not really in the mood, Quinn." Rachel turned back around and put her forehead back on the glass, seeking the comfort of the spot she'd already warmed up.

Quinn wasn't accustomed to hearing "no" from her peers, and fascinated, she gingerly advanced into the room further. "Rachel," she started.

Rachel turned around again, and pushed out an impatient breath. "What do you want from me? I can't take your hot and cold, Quinn. This 'you being nice to me' thing is confusing enough, after you spent so many years going out of your way to make me miserable. I'm not playing this game anymore. I think I'd really rather you just left me alone." She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out defiantly.

Quinn stopped, deflated. She sank down into a chair. "You're right," she admitted softly. She looked up, across the few feet of distance between herself and Rachel. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry," she said.

Rachel blinked. She didn't know what she was expecting, but contrition from Quinn Fabray wasn't it. Rachel nodded tightly, to acknowledge Quinn's words, though she wasn't ready to forgive all of Quinn's years of trespasses on the strength of a single spoken apology in the middle of the night.

"Go back to bed, Quinn. It's late, and you still have time to catch a few hours of sleep."

Quinn hesitated, and then remembered her dreams. There'd be no sleep for her alone in that big bed. "Come back to bed with me."

Rachel wasn't buying. "Why?"

"I'm not really into caring and sharing much, but ... I have trouble sleeping sometimes. I have ... bad dreams." Quinn dropped her gaze to the floor.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm not going to be your nightmare kickboxing bag, Quinn."

_I had that coming_. "No, that's not it." She closed her eyes. "I was able to sleep when you were spooned behind me. Like the nightmare stopped. That's never happened before." She opened her eyes and looked at Rachel. "Come with me for an hour. If it doesn't work and one of us is awake we'll call it off and find a deck of cards or hack Santana's Facebook page..." And then, something that Quinn Fabray never, ever, said to anyone: "Please?"

Rachel weighed her options. She probably could fall back asleep in the comfortable bed upstairs, especially if Santana and Brittany were through. She met Quinn's eyes, considered whether she was sincere.

"Fine. An hour, but I reserve the right to leave."

Quinn's relief was palpable. "Thanks. Hopefully the Energizer bunnies are finished." Quinn stood up, graceful as ever, and stretched her arms and shoulders.

Rachel blushed, part from Quinn's joke and part from realizing she really liked the way Quinn moved.

"And no funny business." Rachel put the last condition out there for herself as much as Quinn.

"Agreed," Quinn said easily.

They both started for the door of the solarium. Quinn exited first, then smoothly slid her hand into Rachel's as she walked through the doorway. "It's dark. I know the layout of this place better than you do," she said by way of explanation.

Rachel rolled with it. She allowed herself the small pleasure of enjoying the way her hand fit into Quinn's slightly larger one, and they walked up the staircase side-by-side.

.:.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine, and I do take some liberties with canon.

Achtung: Mature concepts below.

A/N: Reviews and "Follows" do make the creative impulses trip between synapses more quickly.

.:.

Chapter 12

.:.

Santana laid her head on Brittany's chest, listening as her heartbeat returned to normal. Brittany's walls were still periodically pulsing around her fingers, and she smiled as a cliché flitted through her head: _was it good for you?_

Brittany opened her eyes, still enjoying the rippling aftershocks. _I haven't felt that before_. She thought for a couple of seconds, smiling. "San, we should do that again." She brought a hand up to trace random patterns on Santana's back with her fingers.

Santana frowned and looked up at Brittany's face. "Already?"

Brittany smiled. "No, silly, later."

"Oh." Santana grinned back, and reluctantly pulled her fingers free. Brittany's eyelids fluttered closed and she caught her lower lip in her teeth. "Britt? You OK?" Santana asked.

Brittany opened her eyes, the very picture of satiation. "Perfect." She paused, got an idea. "Well...not quite." She surprised Santana by flipping her over quickly, and looking into her wide brown eyes.

"Britt?"

Brittany threaded their legs together, and leaned in to speak softly into Santana's ear. "I'm not sure you're finished."

Santana shivered at the sensation of Brittany's warm breath tickling against her ear. "I did, B, remember? You know, the whole crying thing?" She knew she'd never admit it to anyone else, but she was kindof happy that she was able to share that with Brittany.

Brittany hummed and nibbled Santana's earlobe. "Mmm-hmm, but there's more." Her fingers brushed over a nipple, and she felt more than heard Santana's hitched breath.

"M-More?"

Brittany slowly dragged her fingers down Santana's flat belly as she moved her head back up so she could look into Santana's eyes. She saw confusion, arousal ... and trust. She smiled, brushed her nose across Santana's. "Yeah, San, more." She slid her hand between Santana's legs, unsurprised at the new wetness, and gently pushed in with two fingers. Santana's eyes widened, and her back arched involuntarily as Brittany's fingertips lightly curled against the spot inside that Santana had found inside Brittany. Brittany stilled her fingers inside for a minute and lightly started circling Santana's clit with her thumb.

"God, B..." Santana closed her eyes and her hips started moving. Brittany let Santana set the pace, and followed the the ages-old rhythm with her fingers.

.:.

"So...how do you want to do this?" Rachel asked tentatively. They stood awkwardly in the dark of the guest room.

Quinn stifled a yawn, which was completely at odds with the little butterflies in her belly. "I was really kindof comfortable, um, before we woke up." Quinn paused and frowned before speaking softly. "Do you mind doing that again?" _Sleeping is more important than anything else at this point_.

Rachel considered. "No, I don't mind. In fact," she said as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, "it makes sense to share some heat. We might both be more comfortable. How cold is it in here anyway?"

Quinn smiled. "Santana keeps a cold house to go with that cold heart she has. She turns the air way down when her parents are gone and snuggles under a down comforter like a hibernating bear."

Rachel snickered and set her phone down on a nightstand. She slipped back into the bed, rolled over on a hip and held the blankets up for Quinn.

Quinn quirked an eyebrow in the dark. _How sweet_, she thought. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about snuggling back into Rachel for a few hours. "Thanks, Rachel." Quinn followed Rachel, let the blankets fall over them and eased back into her, refusing to think about how really out of character this was, for both of them. She never thought she'd be drawn to another girl, not like this. She settled her head on a pillow, felt Rachel curving her body behind her, and she stifled a sigh of comfort. And she partially successfully ignored feeling Rachel's chill-stiffened nipples brushing against her back.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, Rach?"

Rachel hesitantly placed her arm over Quinn's hips. "Is this OK?" Quinn stiffened, unaccustomed to feeling another person's touch there and being just the slightest bit ticklish. Rachel, feeling Quinn's reaction, tried to pull her arm back. Quinn grabbed it, held it where Rachel had placed it.

"It's OK, Rach, just wasn't expecting it." _It's not like I have a lot of experience sharing a bed with someone else_.

"No, I can move it, it's alright..." Rachel was still trying to take back her arm.

Quinn left her hands on Rachel's arm where she had grabbed it, caressed once, enjoyed feeling the soft hairs and supple skin under her fingers. "It's fine," she said softly. "Really."

Rachel relaxed under Quinn's soothing touch and voice. She yawned and used her arm as leverage to snuggle in a bit closer behind Quinn. The thought crossed her sleepy mind that it was probably really weird, the way they were moving from bitter rivals to spooning in the same bed, but she was already drifting off, borne along by her own exhaustion and the comforts of Quinn's body heat, the slightest tickle of her hair and the scent of her skin. "G'night, Quinn," she said softly.

Quinn stared ahead, as she processed the feeling of her backside pressed intimately into the cradle of Rachel's hips. _Definitely. Like. This. Girl_. "Good night, Rach. Thanks for doing this."

"Mmmm-hmm," Rachel said, as she slid closer to slumber and her body relaxed further.

Quinn felt her own body unwinding little by little. She reflected on the big events of the day ... Santana had _finally_ come out, to Glee at least, and Quinn herself had kissed Rachel. Quinn closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled. She found herself snuggling further into Rachel's warm, heavy embrace, yawning, and dropping off to sleep. She pulled Rachel's arm back up between her breasts without thinking and linked their fingers together.

.:.

Santana was no blushing virgin. She had fucked a bunch of guys, and sometimes even got off before they finished. In her estimation, it really had taken about 20 times or so before any real sense of accomplishment set in.

But _Oh My God_, whatever Brittany was doing with her fingers and thumb was making her feel as if her body would short-circuit into unconsciousness. Santana had no interest in passing out. She opened her eyes, found Brittany's blue eyes watching her intently. Eye contact during sex was not something she ever did, like ever, with anyone before, but she couldn't look away from Brittany's compelling gaze. They didn't miss a beat in their rhythm, and Santana felt another orgasm building, deeper in her belly than before, even pulling tight across her breasts. She started to pant out, "Oh God, Britt," and her eyes clung to Brittany's as the lifeline tethering them both to the bed, together.

Brittany kept pace, watching the changes in Santana's face, and knowing from the pressure building around her fingers that San was close. _Let go for me, baby_, she thought, knowing that the spoken words might break the spell.

The pleasure exploded abruptly in Santana's abdomen, and as she catapulted over the edge of a very high cliff, she screamed out Brittany's name one last time and arched her body at an impossible angle. Brittany watched the maelstrom in Santana's eyes as the orgasm pulled her down and under.

.:.

Quinn faintly heard Santana shouting Brittany's name. _Seriously_? Her body was too close to the blessed darkness of sleep to care too much, so she let it go.

Rachel cooed in her sleep, shifted closer to seek more warmth, and pressed her lips to the back of Quinn's neck. Quinn faintly registered that too, and let her conscious mind go the rest of the way.

.:.

Brittany pulled her fingers out and tentatively flexed her hand to stave off cramping. She laid her head on Santana's shoulder, snuggling closer to take in Santana's scent: sweat, moisturizer, shampoo, sex. It was already one of Brittany's favorite fragrances, the unique combination that just smelled like _her_.

Santana's breathing was slowing and returning to normal. "I argee, we need to do that again, B" she said softly, in a dry. raspy voice around a huge grin. _If this is what I've been missing..._

Brittany draped an arm up the middle of Santana's chest. "But not right now, right?"

"No, not now. I think I like your definition of 'more,' though."

Brittany snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, I was pretty sure you weren't done yet."

Santana blew out a long breath. "B, anytime you want to do that again, you just let me know." Santana smirked, brought up an arm to cradle around Brittany's shoulders, to bring her closer. She yawned, lassitude permeating every cell. "Hey, Britt?"

"Hmm?" Brittany had her eyes closed, her head resting on Santana's chest listening to her strong heartbeat.

"You were right...a-about feelings and eye contact and, you know, that stuff."

Santana felt Brittany's smile. "I know."

_You always do_. "I love you, Brittany." Santana kissed the top of Brittany's head.

"I love you too, San. So much I'm afraid sometimes that I might have a heart attack like Kurt's dad."

Santana smiled. "I won't let it happen, babe."

"So, San?" Brittany braced. "What about Quinn and Rachel?"

Santana groaned, though she wasn't genuinely angry. "B, can we wait until tomorrow to talk about Q's unhealthy obsession with that dwarf?"

Brittany raised up on her elbows to look at Santana. "San, I think there's something there."

"Yeah, well it's just disgusting. Quinn needs to drop whatever little fantasy she's spinning in her head. I mean, if she's going to be into girls, fine, but she should at least pick a hot one."

Brittany frowned. "San, would you love me if I looked like Rachel?"

Santana, caught off guard by the question, opened and closed her mouth. "Of course I would, Britt. That's not the point."

"What is the point, then?"

"Rachel Berry has elevated annoyance to a new level of asshat-ness." Santana sighed. "She's so freaking opinionated and she needs a flatbed trailer to haul her ego around."

"I think Q really likes her, and Rachel really likes Q back. We should help them, San." Brittany waited a second, then continued, "You know how hard it is to figure this stuff out."

Santana considered. "Yeah, Quinn's probably trying to convince herself it was just the booze. One would HOPE so, but there's too much other stuff going on too for it be just tequila."

"San, Rachel is really nice, if you give her a chance."

"B, I can't believe we're here in bed together, naked, for the first time in like months and we're talking about manhands," Santana groused.

Brittany sighed and gave up, for the moment. She yawned, rolled off Santana, and said, "San, I'm kinda hungry."

Santana snorted. Leave it to Brittany to be hungry in the middle of the night. She took a different tack. "You just, er, ate not too long ago."

Brittany rolled her head over to look at Santana, saw the smirk, and deadpanned, "San, eating **you** doesn't count. Let's go downstairs and see what's in the fridge." She saw that Santana wasn't convinced yet. Brittany scooted closer and blinked. "Please?"

"Hmph. Fine." _Maybe someday I'll figure out how to say no to her_. Santana rolled to the edge of the bed and wearily stood up. "B, is your bag up here?"

"Ummm...no, I think I left it downstairs."

_Shit. If there were no houseguests we wouldn't even need clothes_. "OK. I think I still have some of your stuff here." Santana crossed to her dresser, opened a drawer and peered in, handicapped by the sputtering light of the candle. _Ah, here we are_. Boxer shorts, faded Fraggle Rock t-shirt. Santana chuckled. "Awww, I forgot about this shirt."

Brittany had walked over to peer over Santana's shoulder. "It was my favorite show."

Santana remembered, but still. "Britt, we're seventeen now."

"So what? You gave it to me." Brittany took the boxers and t-shirt, pulled them on, and Santana had to pat herself on the back for holding on to a shirt for Brittany that was clearly at least a size too small. _Gobo and Red never looked so good_.

"Last one downstairs is a rotten egg!" Brittany exclaimed, and she took off at a dead sprint.

Santana was still looking for her discarded clothes from earlier when she heard Brittany running down the front staircase. She rolled her eyes and picked up her tank and shorts from before, shimmied into them. She padded down the hallway, noted that the door to the guest room with abuelo's extra-firm bed was open. _Hmm, wasn't open when I went to bed_. She peeked in, saw that the bed had been slept in. _Q probably tried, but that bed is impossible. I guess she found somewhere else to sleep_. Santana shrugged one shoulder, and then noted that the door to the guest bedroom across from the bath was also open. She frowned, and thought that Berry would be the closed-door type. She poked her head in, saw a figure in the bed, nodded, and started to close the door when she noticed something odd. There was a rhythmic snoring, and a rhythmic normal breathing. She stopped. _There are two people in that bed? Berry and Quinn are in the same bed?_ Díos mio_, like this won't fuck up Quinn some more_. She backed out silently and headed down the stairs.

.:.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. Errors are all mine, and I do take some liberties with canon.

Achtung: Mature concepts below.

A/N: Con/crit, reviews and "follows" do make the creative impulses trip between synapses more quickly, though the day job velocity continues to pick up. At some point this story will wind down but I haven't reached the end yet in my mind.

To Breakdown6 - thank you for the kind words.

.:.

Chapter 13

.:.

Rachel's internal alarm clock half-woke her a little before 7am. Her body was oddly reluctant to wake fully. She felt comfortably warm, enveloped by an arm and half-supported by something soft. She stretched, luxuriously, from the tips of her fingers down to her toes, and breathed in a deep lungful of air. She snuggled back into Quinn, reveling in the warmth and softness of her body, and draped an arm across her ribs, just under her breasts. She yawned and sleepily nuzzled into Quinn's neck, taking in the fragrance of hair, skin and a faint whiff of unfamiliar detergent from the pillowcase.

She froze. This was not supposed to be so comfortable or enjoyable. And remembering Quinn's hot-and-cold behavior she certainly should not **want** to keep nuzzling or smelling or touching Quinn Fabray. Quinn obviously did not want anything to do with this, whatever it was.

_Awake. Totally awake now_.

Rachel carefully retrieved her arm and retreated as inobtrusively as she could, praying that Quinn wasn't awake yet. She didn't need anything else to complicate what was already proving to be a nettlesome development. She laid on her back in a mercilessly cold spot of the bed, a good distance away from Quinn's prone form, and silently recounted yesterday's events. Including that she was only here in the same bed as a stopgap to stave off nightmares. Including how she'd felt when Quinn kissed her so heatedly in the kitchen downstairs. She threw an arm over her eyes and willed her libido, and her roaring romantic interest in Quinn, to subside.

.:.

Quinn drove away with a little wave as Rachel went into her house. The early-morning ride back from Santana's had been a little awkward There was something brewing between them, some new level of awareness. She shook her head slightly. She'd woken up this morning most contentedly around dawn with Rachel curled comfortably into her body, their limbs and hair and scents carelessly tangled together. And Rachel's face nuzzled into Quinn's neck. Rachel had stretched, without realizing that Quinn was also awake, and Quinn frowned at the memory of feeling Rachel's sinuously undulating body against her own motionless one. It had made her want to move too, and not just to stretch. She'd wanted beyond reason to gather Rachel closer, roll her over gently, and kiss her senseless. And let her hands wander, surrender to whatever it was with Rachel that made her feel so much _want_. Instead, she'd focused herself inward, as usual, and done nothing more than feign waking up a few minutes later. Her jaw clenched in involuntary disappointment at the recall of missing the opportunity to kiss Rachel again this morning. Rachel made her feel wanted, accepted, part of something instead of _apart_, and it was simply confounding. What was it that Santana had called it? The world getting knocked off its axis? Quinn snorted. _You could call it that. Not sure I want to be a part of that_.

Quinn mentally replayed some of Rachel's words from the night before. "_It wasn't a mistake, Quinn...it wasn't just tequila. At least I'm honest about it, which is more than I can say for you._" Quinn downshifted as she neared a four-way stop. She felt her face flushing as she remembered her body's visceral and frankly addictive reaction to Rachel's yawn against the sensitive skin of her throat, the feeling of moist moving lips and warm exhaled breath. She shifted her hips in the seat of her car. _Enough, Fabray. Get a grip. _She knew it wasn't just tequila, but that was the best thing she could come up with to explain away this, whatever this was. At least they hadn't had to cope with Santana's sharp tongue this morning, since they left before the happy couple had emerged from their love nest. She reminded herself to text later, if for no other reason than to let Santana and Brittany know that everything was OK. And it wasn't as if Santana knew that she'd spent the night sleeping with Rachel. _Best sleep I've had in a long time_, she thought ruefully, _but at least I won't have Santana on me for that too_.

Quinn took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and resolved not to think about anything Rachel-related for the rest of the day. Home, shower, breakfast, work. She flipped on the radio to distract her wandering thoughts, and snorted when she heard the first verse of Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." _Honesty, indeed_.

.:.

Rachel leaned up against the front door as soon as she closed it and dropped her bag. She closed her eyes and exhaled a huge breath before rubbing a hand over her face. _I'm glad I went, but I'm glad it's over_.

"Everything OK, baby girl?" Leroy Berry considered his daughter over his coffee mug. He'd made for the front door when he heard her come in, to make sure everything was alright. She had been away from home overnight, unsupervised, for the first time in maybe ever and looked, well, stressed and confused. Rachel did more drama before breakfast than most people did in a day, but this mood just looked odd on her. After 17 years of experiencing the wide range of Rachel's emotions and behaviors, Leroy's gut told him this was one he and Hiram hadn't seen yet. He was curious.

Rachel gathered herself quickly. "It's fine, daddy. Just a little tired. Yesterday was a long day," she finished with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Leroy raised an eyebrow but kept his own counsel on what he thought was likely a lie of omission. He supposed teenage girls were allowed to keep _some_ secrets, after all. And she didn't have the despondent look that boyfriend troubles seemed to stamp on her features, so he let it slide. He took a sip of his coffee, swallowed. "Want some breakfast? Your dad is in the kitchen reading the paper."

"Not right now. Maybe a little later." She leaned down to pick up her bag.

"OK. I have an early shift at the hospital, so I'll be home by dinnertime. You all set to leave for the beach tomorrow?" He smiled.

"I have to work through my checklist one more time and have a load of laundry to do, but I'll be packed and ready." She smiled back at him, and this time she meant it. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Have a good day at work, daddy."

"Thanks, baby girl." He watched her walk up the stairs, her normally bouncy gait dampened by whatever weighed so heavily on her mind. Leroy checked his watch, and calculated that he had just enough time to talk with Hiram about this latest development before he had to get to work. He retraced his steps to the kitchen.

.:.

Quinn was checking in some new inventory at the bookstore when her boss, Kyle, poked his head into the back. "Hey, Quinn, it's getting kinda busy on the floor. Can you come out here to help?"

"Sure." She set down the latest hardcover J.D. Robb inside the carton with the rest and straightened her black apron before heading out to the sales floor. She noted a line near the cash registers and smoothly signed in to the second terminal and asked to help the next person in line.

Just a few minutes later, the mini-rush clustered around the lunch hour had abated, and she walked around the floor, tidying up magazines and other miscellaneous odds and ends that were out of place. Her co-worker, Paige, walked up and plucked some children's books out of non-fiction bestsellers. "How was your day off yesterday? It was the pool party, right?"

"Yeah. It was fun. Sun, music, friends, a little illicit booze and fireworks," she said, after looking around to make sure no one else was within earshot. She deliberately didn't mention Rachel, and frowned because her suppression plan had sprung a leak.

"That yummy Shane guy from the Gap was here yesterday, looking for you," Paige whispered conspiratorially as she tucked a strand of long hair behind one ear. "The Dark Lord chased him out, which is a damn shame because he certainly improved the scenery and the smell in here. Plus I think like 4 girls followed him in and actually made this place look shopped in at 2:00 on a weekday."

Quinn allowed a slight smile at Paige's nickname for Kyle, and with effort recalled Shane's easy smile and broad shoulders. "He seems nice," she said noncommitally.

"'Nice' isn't what I'd call him. He makes those overpriced rags from the Gap look goooooood." Paige fanned herself with her free hand, and Quinn's mind could only focus on the memory of Rachel's curvy body barely covered by a yellow bikini.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed, absentmindedly.

"You should go see if he's working today. He's totally into you." A light cough caught Paige's attention. A customer was standing by the register with a pair of books and Kyle was glowering at her. Paige sighed lightly. "Duty calls. Hey, will you pick me up a fruit smoothie at the food court when you go on break?"

"Sure." Quinn was feigning deep interest in the puzzle books, making sure Sudoku didn't completely cover the word searches, while she considered Paige's idea. _Just what the doctor ordered, a hot guy to date. I think I will stop by the Gap_.

.:.

Rachel picked up her cell phone and put it back down. _Twelve times_. She'd been fighting the urge to text Quinn all morning, inferring from the awkward way they left Santana's house and the stilted conversation in the car on the way back to her house that such a communiqué would be both unwelcome and unanswered. Twelve times she had picked up her phone and set it back down again. She was still trying to sort out the entirety of what had happened between them yesterday and overnight. Rachel shook her head. _This is pointless_. If she was honest with herself, and she always was, she knew she was romantically interested in Quinn, enough to move forward. Clearly, though, there was no way that Quinn Fabray would be romantically interested in her, after the years of torment and bullying, and given societal taboos on homosexual relationships. Rachel was an optimist, but also enough of a realist to grasp objectively that her interest probably would not be reciprocated. Maybe Quinn was right and the tequila had galvanized an impetuous action. Rachel shook her head again at the speculation, laced up her walking shoes, and picked up her iPod and headphones. _A brisk walk around the neighborhood is just what I need_. She walked out of her bedroom, tying her hair back into a ponytail as she went, and deliberately left her cell phone on her desk.

.:.

Santana hit Quinn's speed dial on her cell phone after Brittany had left to go home mid-morning. As it rang in her ear, she remembered how unbelievably awesome it was to fall asleep wrapped around Brittany in the wee hours and to wake up with her, naked, in the same bed. Santana had made it an unspoken rule not to cuddle much after sex, in the interest of self-preservation from the dreaded feelings. As a result, they rarely shared a bed for sleep right after sex and even less frequently did they sleep without some kind of pajamas. _Well, until last night_. Even if it was only a few hours of sleep, she awoke with her body completely sated, cocooned by blonde hair, pale skin, and a strong heartbeat in her ear. She closed her eyes and smiled softly at the memory.

Quinn's voice mail picked up, jarring her from her recall of the sun glinting off beautiful creamy skin. Santana waited impatiently for the beep and began speaking. "Hey, Juno, way to sneak out of my house at freakin' dark-thirty this morning without so much as a text or a note." She huffed and made sure it was loud enough for the phone to pick it up. "Not that I really give a shit, but I assume Manhands made it home. I also assume that you're OK. Call me." She hung up and wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat.

.:.

Quinn clocked out at 3:30, hung up her apron on a peg in the back, collected her purse from a locker, and waved a goodbye to Kyle and Paige. She walked out the front of the store and headed resolutely for the Gap. A tiny, rebellious corner of her mind was disappointed that there were no calls or texts from Rachel on her phone. That same rebellious corner resolutely hoped that Shane was off today.

.:.

Rachel ran through her checklist one more time. She had everything neatly checked off, including sufficient reading material for the plane and the beach. She flitted mentally through her summer assignments for school and consulted the school's website to confirm that she had everything. Summer reading for AP English, check. _Wait. No!_ She re-read the instructions and determined that she had misunderstood the assignment. She had to read three books instead of the two she had planned. She logged on to the public library's website to check for a copy of Orwell's _1984_, but it was checked out and not due back for several weeks. It was too late to try to get a copy before she and her dads left for vacation. She frowned, and realized the best bet to get the book in time would be to pick it up at the mall bookstore after vacation.

.:.

Quinn called Santana on her way home from work. "Hey, Santana."

"Where've you been, Q?" Santana set down the sack of trash she was circling the kitchen with and leaned a hip against the counter. "For all I knew, the midget kidnapped you and you woke up like Gulliver or something. Maybe you're into getting tied up, I don't know." She smirked.

"Ha-ha. No, we were both awake early this morning. I had to be at work for an opening shift and Rachel is apparently also a morning person. By the way, thanks for keeping it down last night."

"It's not my fault you had to be up early for work, and besides, you were far enough away down the hall that Britt and I shouldn't have bothered you." Santana seized the opening. "I don't know how you managed to sleep in that extra-firm bed _mami_ and _papi_ keep here for Abuelo. It's like trying to sleep on a sidewalk, without the risk of getting stepped on or felt up by a homeless guy." Santana couldn't resist poking a little, but she also had another question, significantly more important. "So, Q ..." Santana drawled out the syllable. "I'm not good at this talking about feelings shit, but, erm, what's going on with you and Berry?"

Quinn winced. "Is Brittany there?"

"No, Tubbers, you're stuck with Auntie Tana this time. So, for reals, and between you and me, are you, like, **interested **interested?" Santana used a soft voice in the effort to tread carefully. She didn't want to belittle Quinn for feeling attracted to another girl, even one as marginally humanoid as Berry, and she wanted to get an honest answer. She also wanted to leave the door open in case Quinn wanted to talk about this later on.

Quinn huffed. "Santana, I gave birth over a year ago and weigh two pounds less now than when I got pregnant. I think I'm off the 'Tubbers' name-calling."

"Whatevs, Q. Stop avoiding the question."

Quinn took a deep breath, exhaled, as she considered her options. "I told you that I...kissed her yesterday, didn't I?" Quinn's tone was resigned more than confrontational. Stupid alcohol.

"Mm-hmm." Santana replied, deliberately non-committally.

"I didn't mean to tell you about it."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're not going to say anything else?"

Santana counted to three in her mind. She was not a patient person by nature. Instead of letting her sarcasm run free, she said only, "Trying to be supportive, here."

Quinn rolled her eyes, and caught herself because that was more Santana's gig than hers. "Fine." She took a deep breath. "I kissed her, and I kinda liked it." She was quiet for a moment. "She liked it too."

"Mm-hmm. And?" Santana tamped down the sarcasm, though it was seriously getting harder to contain.

"'And' nothing. I'm straight, despite the girl-on-girl pheromones that you and Brittany were emitting by the bucketload yesterday. I got pregnant, via heterosexual sex, and had a baby, for God's sake!"

"OK, Q, OK. I hear you," Santana said quietly. She thought, _If by "straight" you mean "I like Rachel Berry_," _then I'm buying it_.

"And I have a date on Thursday night with a guy who works at the Gap." Quinn announced triumphantly.

Santana was quiet for a full second, and said neutrally, "Cool. What's his name?" _I'll play this with you for a little while, Quinn, until you figure it out_.

Quinn relaxed, realized how tense she had been. "Shane. He goes to Carmel, going to be a senior. He plays varsity soccer."

Santana smiled, let it come through in her voice. "Soccer players are super-hot." She was willing to help Quinn through the panic. Besides, she knew there was no way Quinn was going to be on to this guy for long, not after what she'd seen yesterday. Quinn was hungry for something she couldn't even name yet, but it definitely wasn't going to be served up by a guy named Shane. Santana made a mental note to start working on jokes for cross-species dating, and listened as Quinn waxed poetic about Shane's shoulders, smile and hands. _Whatever. He might marginally be a man and have hands, but he's no Manhands_. She rolled her eyes in resignation when she realized they were one step closer to double-dating.

.:.

Santana picked up the landline phone on the third ring that afternoon. "Hello?"

"Hey, San, it's me."

"Hey, Britt." Santana's voice warmed. "What's up?"

"Dad cleaned out the freezer yesterday and has a bunch of stuff to grill. He and my mom wanted to see if you wanted to come over for dinner."

"Sure, B. I'd love to." The Pierces were practically surrogate parents. "What time?"

"Whenever. I'm cleaning up my room and helping my mom with laundry this afternoon so I'll be here."

Santana started. "Um, Britt, remember what happened the last time you did laundry?" Santana's mind filled with the scene of a washing machine literally buried under an explodding phalanx of soap bubbles and an expensive dryer repair after which Brittany's dad had just sighed resignedly.

"San, that was like, months ago." Brittany smiled to herself. "I have that measuring detention thing down."

Santana chuckled. "Detergent, Britt. Let me run through the shower and I'll be over to your house by 4. Good?"

"Can't wait, San. See you in a few."

.:.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Glee, nor do I make any money from this. (Fair use, etc., etc., etc.) Errors are all mine, and I do take some liberties with canon that might shade to the AU side of things from time to time. In this story, nothing from Season 3 has happened yet, and much of it will not if we get that far.

A/N: This chapter is probably rated about T, though prior chapters are definitely M and I make no promises about the content or rating of future chapters. Con/crit, reviews and "follows" do make the creative impulses trip between synapses more quickly. For those who have responded with reviews, I appreciate the feedback, even if it's an "update, please." If there's something I blatantly missed or if you think a particular plot would work well in the fabric of this narrative, please do send word.

Apologies for the inexcusably long delay. I've had these ideas percolating in my head for a long time but not enough coherence to get them down as electrons. These lovelies were never abandoned, merely neglected for a (really longish) time. I envision this story shifting OTP'ers Brittany and Santana to a side burner for a bit, and I plan to start noodling around with what happens when you combine a more self-aware participatory "Fa" with a knowing and receptive "Berry." I love their dynamic and the canon subtext.

On a rant note, I had a thousand-plus words in the original draft for this chapter that my e-mail client arbitrarily truncated and they are nowhere to be found. If I thought that a milk carton or wanted poster would help, I'd do 'em up but alas, I doubt those will achieve the desired result. I will re-write the lost parts and they may so appear here but let it be known and let it be said aloud that Anne is not happy with this turn of events. The optimist on the left shoulder says that it's a chance to do over even better than the original - wittier, lusher in detail, really dig around and root out those feelings and what the characters realistically would do. The pessimist on the right shoulder is effing lazy and does not want to revisit ground already traversed in the landscape of the mind. If you're reading this the optimist channeled its inner Santana and went all Lima Heights Adjacent on the pessimist. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

A quick recap: This story is set during the summer between junior and senior years. Santana has stepped up and admitted to the members of the Glee Club that she's in love with Brittany during a 4th of July pool party that apparently lasts longer than the entire month of July. Rachel and Quinn sucked face in the kitchen after Quinn knocked back a fair amount of tequila. Kurt and Blaine are on to the vibe between Rachel and Quinn. Hot lusty sweet lady kisses and g-o-o-d s-e-x transpired overnight for Brittana. Rachel and Quinn shared some discussion moments. Rachel's on vacation with her dads at a beach to be named later, Quinn works at the mall bookstore (look it up - there really is a bookstore at the mall in Lima, OH, which is why nobody works at Abercrombie and Fitch), and Santana is headed over to Brittany's house for a cookout. Quinn's supposed to have a date with Shane, the studly soccer player from Carmel, but I haven't decided yet how this will play out - whether he'll be a tool or just a really nice regular guy she's using to try to bridge the gap between "I'm not" and "maybe I am and maybe it's OK." Any reproduction or retransmission without the express written consent of Major League Base-ball is strictly prohibited.

.:.

Santana arrived later than she'd predicted at the Pierces' house, but she took longer than usual to get ready; she wanted to look good. She parked the SUV in the driveway and blew herself a kiss in the rearview mirror as she always did. As she got out of the car, she saw that Brittany was giving her sister Hailey a piggy-back ride around the side of the house. Ellen Pierce, an older version of Brittany with shorter hair and laugh lines wreathing her face, was watching her daughters' cavorting with a half-smile as she balanced a basket of damp laundry on one hip in the side yard near some clotheslines. Santana fought off a genuine smile and envied the effortless family intimacy that the Pierces enjoyed with each other. This would never have happened at the Lopez house.

"San!" Brittany carefully dropped Hailey to her feet and both young Pierces ran in her direction. Santana, sensing an incoming full-body tackle, braced for impact. Hailey reached Santana first and wrapped herself around the side of Santana's waist, as Santana absorbed the brunt of Hailey's enthusiastic momentum with two steps back. Brittany pressed up against Santana's front with more finesse and wrapped her arms around Santana's rib cage joyfully. Santana hugged both of them back, without reservation, and felt Brittany's lips softly pressing a tender kiss to her temple. She shivered, despite the summertime afternoon temperature, and her pulse picked up tempo.

"Hey, Hale. Look at how tall you're getting!" Santana pulled away to smile down at Brittany's sister and ruffled her trademark blonde Pierce hair.

"I'm almost as tall as you, San." Hailey smiled up at her.

"You're getting there, squirt." At age 8 now, with those Dutch Pierce genes, Hailey probably _would_ be taller than Santana by this time next year.

Brittany took a small step back but kept a subtle, soothing hand on Santana's hip, of which Santana was aware. "But really, Hale, it's not that hard to grow taller than Santana." Brittany's tone was teasing, and the light of mischief sparkled in her eyes. Santana narrowed her own eyes at Brittany in response.

"Very funny, Britt," she said, but she never could muster a truly menacing tone, or look, when it came to Brittany. Brittany just continued rubbing the small circles on Santana's hip with a telling and dreamy half-smile.

"Daddy's going to be grilling out in the back yard," Hailey continued. "Brittany was going to give me a piggyback ride, but you got here and she set me down." Hailey pouted a little.

"I'll make it up to you later, Hale. OK?" Santana looked down at the younger Pierce. She didn't like disappointing Hailey if she could avoid it; this was the kid sister she would never have.

Brittany saved the day. "Come on, Hale, I'll take you." She dropped her hand from Santana's hip, picked up Hailey on her back, and turned to Santana with a questioning look and those clear, clear blue eyes. "Coming, San?"

Santana couldn't stop the smile curving her lips despite noticing that Brittany's hand was gone. "Right behind you, Britt." She willingly followed in the wake of Brittany's summer-scented skin and hair.

.:.

In the rented oceanfront condo, Rachel set down her suitcase in the bedroom that would be hers for the next week. _Paradise?_ She sighed, and resolved not to let brooding about Quinn take any more of her energy or time. It just wasn't in her nature to brood long. She walked over to the window and pulled the wooden horizontal blinds, taking in the panoramic view of the relentless tide of the ocean. She warmed to the thought of wiggling her toes in some sand and maybe hunting up some seashells with her dads in the morning or going shore-bird-watching. She took a deep breath, tried again to shake off her pique and flipped her hair over one shoulder before she turned around to unpack.

In the other bedroom, Hiram was clucking at Leroy and whispering.

"I'm telling you, Lee, there's something going on. Did you see how she practically sulked all the way here?"

"She's 17, Hiram. There's bound to be some sulking. I think it's normal teenage behavior." Leroy unzipped his suitcase, and contemplated talking his husband into heading out to catch some ocean breeze and maybe a glass of wine before they unpacked. "Why are we whispering?"

"Because I don't want her to overhear." Hiram frowned and walked around the foot of the bed to still Leroy's hands from the suitcase. "Sulking isn't normal teenage behavior for Rachel. She's never sulked about anything, not even when she was dating that Finn kid and they broke up."

Leroy nearly growled. "I never liked him."

"Me either, but that's not the point. It's like she's...pining for something."

Leroy considered this. "She came home the other morning from that 4th party in the Heights in an odd mood." He remembered the unusual body language and the lack of specifics about the party.

"I know. She was fine before she left, and not fine when she got home. I want to know what happened at that party. I'm going to talk to her." Hiram had taken two steps toward the bedroom door when Leroy stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hi, you can't. She'll come to us when she's ready. She always has."

"What if she doesn't this time? She's obviously struggling with something and I want to help her. I'm worried. What if something happened to her?" Hiram was nearly wringing his hands.

Leroy's features softened at his husband's ferocity in protecting their daughter. "She's growing up. We need to trust her, Hi. Maybe she needs more time to sort something out, or maybe she wants to handle it herself." Leroy shrugged slightly. "We have to let go and let her be her own person sometime. Let it be for a little while?"

Hiram's shoulders slumped and he sat down on the bed, defeated, but seeing the wisdom in Leroy's words. This was one of the many reasons they worked so well as a couple: Leroy tempered his charge-ahead mentality, and he offset Leroy's laissez-faire approach. "Two days. If she's not back to herself by Friday, we're hashing it out, Berry-style."

Leroy smiled, and smoothed a hand through Hiram's soft curly hair. "Agreed." He shifted gears. "Now, how about we collect our girl and go take a walk on the beach before we scope out some vegan dinner? The unpacking can wait."

Hiram took Leroy's proffered hand and stood up. "Sounds good."

.:.

Santana trailed a bit behind Brittany and Hailey, because really, who wanted to run in the midsummer heat, and noticed that a bedsheet was trailing out of Ellen's wicker laundry basket. She stopped to pick it up and hand it back.

"Oh, thank you, Santana. I didn't know I had a jumper." Ellen smiled and took the sheet, blue eyes twinkling.

"No problem, Mrs. P." Santana smiled back and started toward the back yard again.

She made two steps before Ellen spoke again. "Hey, Santana, can you give me a hand with this?" Ellen held up the sheet and raised her eyebrows. _I didn't toss it out into the grass for nothing, _she thought_._

Santana didn't think twice. "Of course." She walked back, reached out and took half of the sheet and worked with Brittany's mother to get the sheet hung on the line, straightened out and clothespinned down. She savored the fragrance of the laundry detergent clinging to clean, damp cotton.

"It's so nice to see you, Santana. Brittany really missed you while we were gone out west," Ellen started conversationally. "She wasn't counting on not getting a cell phone signal for so much of the trip." Ellen plucked another sheet out of the basket and nonchalantly put one end in Santana's hand, her intent clear.

"I missed her too," Santana replied neutrally. They worked together to hang the damp fabric. Santana's end was a little crooked but it'd dry all the same, Ellen thought.

"You know, San," Ellen said softly, using the nickname deliberately, "she's a different person when you're around. She's...happier, more vibrant, like she's lit up from the inside out." Ellen let her words float on the light breeze, hoping for an opening in this conversation she and her husband Paul had agreed it was time to have.

Santana lightly bit her lip, concentrating on straightening out the fabric of the sheet on the clothesline to make the edges even, stalling a couple of seconds. She wasn't sure what to say back but there was cold dread squeezing into her belly and chest, at odds with the warm summer day and the scent of clean laundry all around. "Uh...thanks. Yeah, I'm happier too." She tried a half-hearted Cheerios smile that would have incensed Coach Sylvester into a "You think that's hard" rant for its lackluster quality, and finished situating the sheet on the line.

Ellen blew out a breath, bent down and pulled out a pillowcase, which she handed to Santana. "Her dad and I like seeing her so happy. We like seeing you happy too."

Santana laid the pillowcase across the line and concentrated on pinning it down before she took the second one Ellen passed to her. "That's great, Mrs. P." _Totally not sure where this is going but it doesn't sound good_.

The laundry basket was empty, so Ellen picked it up and motioned toward a weathered wooden and wrought-iron bench in the side yard under a huge maple tree. "Come sit with me, San."

_I don't think I want to have this conversation_. Santana froze. "Um, I think I'd better get back there before Brittany comes looking for me..."

"It'll only take a minute, sweetie." Ellen realized that Santana was frightened, very nearly out of her own skin. _Oh, good, she's caught on_. Ellen sat and nonchalantly dropped the laundry basket beside her in the grass. She patted the spot next to her on the bench invitingly.

Santana, defeated, trudged over and lightly perched on the edge of the bench with the barest of sighs, and faced straight ahead. She took the offensive, out of nerves, and asked, "What'd you want to talk about?" She smoothed her hair back, a subconscious gesture meant to calm her racing heart, and let her hands fall demurely to her lap before her fingers reached for the comfort of the silver bracelet around the opposite wrist.

Ellen registered Santana's nervous gestures and relaxed against the back of the bench. She tilted her face to catch the light breeze, relishing the relief from the sun that the dappled shade provided. "I remember when you and Brittany were little, even before you started kindergarten. You'd spend all day out here in the yard in the summers, playing and talking, and every once in awhile I'd find you both curled up and napping together on this bench in the shade." She stretched her legs and toes out in front of her, and paused comfortably, wanting to put Santana more at ease. "I knew it was time to come check on you when the noise level died down after lunch. It was so cute, the way you'd watch out for each other. You practically had your own language." She chuckled. "Even now, you're the only one of her peers who can follow her mental twists and turns without losing a beat and appreciate her more ... unique perspectives."

Santana allowed herself a small, genuine smile but kept her posture stiff and gaze focused directly in front of her, concentrating on taking shallow breaths that smelled like summer sun, growing grass, honeysuckle and...comfort. Brittany was really lucky to have a mom like this who was so caring and could joke around.

"You guys spent so much time together, first at school and on weekends, and then gymnastics and cheerleading and the glee club." Ellen smiled fondly as she remembered, let the warmth seep into her words. "San," she said, daring to reach and put a hand on Santana's arm, "Paul and I want you to know..."

Santana counted one, two, three heartbeats' worth of silence as the weight of Mrs. Pierce's hand on her arm started to feel unbearable. She figured it was now or never, so she looked over at Brittany's mother and locked eyes with her, not holding anything back. "Want me to know what?" she forced out resignedly as she tensed her legs to get up off that bench in a hurry if she needed to.

Ellen smiled gently and went for broke. "That the relationship you two have with each other, whatever it might be, is okay. We love both of you." She lightly squeezed Santana's arm for emphasis.

Santana snorted involuntarily in disbelief and looked away, even as she felt the burn of tears threatening. _Damn. All this acceptance is a little much to absorb_.

Ellen left her hand where it was, for fear that Santana might just leap off the bench and run, but she also noted that Santana hadn't denied the implied relationship. She smiled gently, leaned forward and kept speaking to her _de facto_ daughter-in-law. "San, honey, we knew years ago that you were it for Brittany and she was it for you." She shifted a little bit closer, intent on relaying how earnest she was. "You look at each other like people in love do, and you both have since before you hit your teens. You just _get_ each other," Ellen paused, remembering. "You know, she was just devastated when you stopped coming over for a little while after she started seeing that Artie boy." Santana frowned. "I wondered what that was about. Even though he seems like a nice young man, he didn't fit her the way you do." Ellen watched Santana's frown deepen into a scowl and decided to lighten the moment. "Even Lord Tubbington couldn't cheer her up. You know that she's convinced he started smoking again and that the cricket stealing her jewelry is fencing it to support the cat's tobacco habit..." her voice trailed off and she fully grinned when she heard Santana's choked-off laugh.

"Seriously, Santana. Look at me."

Santana forced her tears back down on a shaky breath and slowly turned her unguarded eyes toward Ellen's caring ones. "It's okay that you're in love with each other," Ellen said softly, but directly. "We just want you to be happy and to be able to be yourselves around us." Ellen smiled again. "Frankly the tension was really wearing us out."

"Really?" Santana reached up carefully to dab away the tears that had welled in her eyes anyway. Twice in two days...it was a new record. _BAMFs shouldn't have emotions running quite so close to the surface_.

Ellen smiled. "Really. Well, the part about being yourselves here, at our house. The tension part was tiring but we could have managed if we didn't think it was bad in the long run..." She shifted back to lounge against the backrest of the bench and waited to see if there was anything else forthcoming.

"But...my mom and dad don't know," Santana whispered raggedly.

"They won't hear it from us, unless you both tell us it's okay to say something."

"What about Hailey?"

"What about her? Kids are so flexible, and we think it'll be good for her to see her sister in a loving and committed relationship. Brittany's dad and I are agreed on this. We really don't think she'll bat an eyelash."

Santana slowly let out out a heavy sigh and slumped back on the bench with her eyes closed. Ellen waited a few seconds, and Santana rolled her head along the backrest to look at Brittany's mom again. "This is ... kinda weird," she said. "But in a totally good way." She smiled, softly, and Ellen thought for not the first time that Santana should smile like that more often because it only amplified her radiant beauty. "Thanks, Mrs. P. For everything."

"You're welcome, honey. Thanks for helping me with the laundry." Ellen stood up as Brittany rounded the back of the house and bounded over to the bench.

"San, did you get lost?" Brittany flicked a puzzled look between her mom and Santana.

"No, B." Santana smiled again, offered her hands to Brittany and stood up when Brittany automatically took them in hers. "We just got found."

"I know, silly, I just found you."

The smile turned indulgent, happy and Brittany smiled back out of reflex. "No, I mean your mom and dad know about us...and they're totally cool with it."

Brittany's face lit up, and she looked at her mom, who just nodded. She picked up Santana and twirled her around in a bear hug. "This is so cool, San!" She set Santana down and looked at her mom again. "Wait, mom, I thought you and daddy already knew about this, like, ages ago." Brittany's brow creased lightly. Santana frowned too and looked to Ellen.

"Ummm..." _Busted_. "Well, Brittany, honey, we might have had an idea a little while ago..." she hedged. _I don't want to tell them that we've heard them ... not sleeping...overnight for a couple of years now but haven't had this talk yet_. She looked at Santana, whose eyes widened perceptibly as a blush worked its way across her cheekbones.

"Britt, um, I think they probably just guessed because we spent so much time together and missed each other so much when we were apart," Santana said, as she reached for Brittany's hand and shyly laced their fingers together.

"Oh. Yeah, you totally should have come with us on vacation."

Ellen smiled at her elder daughter. _Darned if the kid isn't right._ "I'm going to head into the house to get the next load of laundry started. Brittany, how's your dad doing back there?"

"He's good. I think he's done warming up the grill. Hailey's going to help bring some stuff out."

"Alright. I'll see you two around back in a few minutes, then," Ellen said as she walked away, humming a happy tune to herself.

Brittany sat down on the bench and pulled Santana down into her lap, linking her hands around Santana's waist. "Britt," Santana warned, and turned her gaze to Brittany's face.

"What?" Brittany asked innocently. "Mom and dad already know and it doesn't matter to Hailey. She already thought we were dating. She told me weeks ago," she said simply.

Santana's eyebrows rose. She sighed lightly in mock-defeat, kicked off her wedges, and stretched her legs out to the other end of the bench as she slipped her own arms around Brittany's waist. She breathed Brittany in and nuzzled her cheek.

"San?" Brittany's voice was soft. "We ARE dating, aren't we?"

Santana rubbed her palm across the back of Brittany's hip bone and smiled against Brittany's soft skin. _Perfect._ "Yeah, Britt. We're dating."

.:.

Kurt plucked a garishly bright postcard from the stack of mail that the postman had just delivered. He flipped it over to skim the writing on the other side. _Rachel_, he thought with a smile. He took out his cell phone and hit her number on speed dial. She answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Kurt." Rachel adjusted herself in her beach lounger under her umbrella and smiled.

"Hi yourself, Ms. Berry. Your postcard just came in the mail. It's ..." Kurt struggled for an apt adjective. "Colorful."

Rachel let a small snort of laughter escape. "'Colorful?' It was that or the well-sculpted and oily-looking half-naked man. I wasn't sure that your dad would appreciate that, and I was sure Finn wouldn't."

"Meh. What they don't know won't hurt them, I say." Kurt set down the postcard. "So are you having fun? For this to get here so quickly you must have sent it when you got off the plane."

Rachel hesitated. "I may have purchased the postcard at the airport on the way out of baggage claim. I didn't want to get home before it was delivered, after all." She took in Kurt's chuckle.

"Funny." Kurt listened for a moment. "I can hear the distant pounding of the surf. Are you on the beach now?"

Rachel contemplated the tide lapping at the beach a couple of dozen yards away. "Yes. I brought some reading along. I want to get this book finished today," she said ruefully, looking down at her book, where her finger marked the spot where she'd stopped when the phone rang.

"Oooh, a potboiler novel at the beach! Light summertime entertainment at its best! What are you reading?" Kurt opened the fridge and scanned the contents to see if a salad could be assembled.

"_Crime and Punishment_."

Kurt shrieked, utterly aghast. "No! No, no no! Rachel, you can NOT go to the beach and drag along a laborious tome like that. It's against the Vacation Code! Where's your Danielle Steele? Or at least some John Grisham in paperback!" Kurt exclaimed.

"The summer's more than half-over, Kurt and the works of those authors are the intellectual equivalent of cotton candy." Rachel paused and thought about putting the book back inside her beach bag but decided to hang on. "I have to read the book sometime before the end of the summer because it's on our AP English reading list, and there aren't a lot of distractions here." Rachel's voice trailed off as she saw an attractive blonde woman delicately toeing through the sodden sand at the water's edge.

Kurt stopped pulling veggies out of the fridge as his diva alarm went off. "Not a lot of distractions? It sounds like you just saw one. Let me guess: tall, dark, handsome and muscled?"

Rachel blushed, though Kurt couldn't see that. "Um, no, not exactly." She did set the book inside her bag then, pushed her sunglasses back up her nose, and leaned back in her chair.

"Why do you sound as if you need some cheering up?" He frowned. "Shouldn't you be regaling me with tales of out-of-town that will make me positively seethe with envy?"

"Of course not, Kurt. 'Hummel's Rule of Skin Care No. 14: Envy is bad for your pores. Don't succumb to it.'" Rachel smiled and Kurt snorted delicately as he pulled some spinach, bibb lettuce, bell pepper and carrot out of the fridge along with a jar of olives. He scoped out an onion on the counter.

"It's not like you to deflect, Rachel. What's really going on? Has Finn called you again to ask you on another date?"

"No," she sighed.

"So what is it? You and your dads usually have a grand time and are really good at making your own fun..." Kurt stopped short. "Oh. It's Quinn." He left his vegetables on the counter and turned around to contemplate this development.

Rachel quickly jumped in. "Kurt, I -"

"No, I get it, Rach. Let me guess: she hasn't called or texted since Tuesday, right? And today's -" he paused as he counted days in his head - "Friday." Rachel's silence told him he was right. "Rachel, sweetie, maybe you should let this one go. Quinn has a lot of ... issues." Kurt winced at his own word choice. _That's one way to say it_. "She's spent a long time and a lot of effort tearing you down, pushing you, bullying and generally trying to make your life miserable. Frankly, I don't think she deserves you." He felt better for having said it plainly.

Rachel sighed. "Kurt, there's this side of her that is so...I don't know, sweet, vulnerable, empathetic..." She casually watched the woman at the edge of the surf keep moving down the beach, out of her line of sight.

"I'm not saying that she doesn't have redeeming qualities, Rach. I'm just saying that whatever caused her to treat you so badly, as she has for so long, doesn't just stop on the proverbial dime. Even if she's inclined to change, she's fighting all those years of whatever oppressive conservative environment with her parents passed for normal at her house."

"I know you're right about some of that," Rachel said in a small voice. "I am just so ... drawn to her. I feel as if she needs me, somehow."

_As a doormat, maybe_, Kurt thought cattily. "She's kindof got a funny way of showing it, Rach," Kurt said gently. "It'll work itself out."

"I guess it will," Rachel mused thoughtfully, and Kurt thought it had been awhile since he'd heard her sound so sad. "But ... what if I was wrong about everything I thought my ideal romantic partner was supposed to be?"

Kurt thought for a moment. "I think it will still all work out the way it's meant to...the chips will fall as they should." He paused again and opted to shift gears, because an introspective Rachel was a mostly unhappy Rachel. "So, what else is on your vay-gay-tion agenda? More beach time, windsurfing, dune buggy racing, watching the manufacture of salt-water taffy, making fun of the old guys with the sandals and black socks, a visit to the wax museum?..."

"Dad, daddy and I are going on a brief dolphin-watching cruise around the inlet and bay later this afternoon, followed by a vegan dinner poolside and Tiki bar-themed karaoke on the beach later tonight."

Kurt clapped. "That sounds fun!"

"Yeah, I think it will be." Rachel's tone wasn't entirely convincing, but Kurt let it go because he knew that pegging sexuality was neither easy nor instant. "I'd better get back to my book, Kurt."

"Okay, diva. Call me later on if you want to talk about anything. Okay?" He frowned a bit, not liking that Quinn had managed to snuff out some of Rachel's sunshine.

"I will, Kurt. Thank you for calling."

"Sure. I'll talk to you later on." He said good-bye and disconnected.

Rachel dropped her phone back into her beach bag, and settled Dostoyevsky back into her lap. With any luck, she'd get through most of the rest of it today. She focused her formidable powers of concentration on the printed pages in front of her and resumed reading.

.:.


End file.
